Nightfang Potter And The Trophy Of Fire
by AvatarCat13
Summary: Now in his fourth year at the Forest, Nightfang Potter must participate in an ancient tournament that's filled with danger and mystery. But behind it is an enemy threatening to resurface. Will Nightfang find the strength to endure the pain and fight to be top cat? Rated T for language, blood, and violence. Movie/book Xover.
1. The House Of The Riddles

**AvatarCat12: Hey everyone! And welcome back to the Nightfang series! This time, we'll be doing Nightfang Potter And The Trophy Of Fire, the fourth book in this epic tale. Plus, Harry and his friends won't return here for quite a little while. When they DO appear in the commentary, they'll be here temporarily.**

**But anyways, here's the disclaimer and the blurb of the fourth book.**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own both series. I'm just mixing them together for the enjoyment of others.**

**Blurb: ****The fourth book starring Nightfang and his coming of age story has arrived. He wants to get away from his malevolent Dursley kin and go to the Global AirBall Trophy with Redstone, Fawnwillow, and the other Weasley cats. He also wants to dream about his crush Rainleaf Chang (and do more than dream).**

**But Nightfang also wants to find out about the mysterious event happening at the Forest, School of Warriorism this year. An event involving two other warrior schools from around the world and a competition that hadn't appeared since World War 1.**

**All in all, Nightfang just wants to be a normal cat. A normal fourteen-year-old warrior cat. But sadly, he knows that he's not a normal cat, even by normal warrior cat standards. He knows that he's doomed to be different.**

**And in this case, normal can be deadly.**

**Publishing Date: July 6, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The House Of The Riddles**_

The villagers of Mitkof Island still called it "the Riddle House," even though it was years since the Riddle family lived there. It stood on a mountain overseeing the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading free over the frost. Once, it was a fine-looking mansion and the largest and grandest building for miles. But now, the Riddle House was now humid, ruined, and empty.

The humans, cats, and dogs all agreed that the old house was "creepy." In the sixties, something strange and horrible had happened there, something that the older residents of the village still liked to talk over when themes for gossip were unusual. The story had been picked over so many times, and had been inflated in so many areas, that nobody was sure what the truth was anymore. Every version of the tale, however, started in the same place. Fifty years before, at dawn on a summer's cool morning when the Riddle House was still well kept and impressive, a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three of her master's Manx cats dead.

The maid had run screaming down the mountain path into the village and roused as many people and dogs as she could.

"Lying there with their eyes wide open! Cold as ice! Still in their dinner things! But no blood or claw marks!"

The police and their dogs were summoned, and the whole of Mitkof Island were boiling with pure shock, curious, and obviously excited. Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel sad about the Riddle cats, for they were very unpopular. Elderly Mr. and Mrs. Riddle were very rich, snooty, and rude, and their grown-up son, Panther, had been worse. All the villagers cared about was about the identity of their murderer. For three healthy cat did not drop dead of natural causes on that night.

The Drooped Jowls, the village bar for dogs, seemed to be barking up a storm that night; all the dogs in the town seemed to have turned out to discuss the murders. They had been rewarded for leaving their fireplaces and kibble when the Riddles' cook's poodle arrived vividly in their midst and declared to the silent tavern that a cat called Drake Bryce had just been sent to the pound.

"Drake!" lots of cats and dogs yowled barked. "Never!"

Drake was the Riddles' gardener's old gray Chartreux. He lived alone in a run-down cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House after the war in Iraq. Drake had come back from the war in Iraq with a stiff hind leg and a great loathing of crowds, cats and dogs, and loud noises, and he had been helping out in working for the Riddles ever since.

There was a rush to buy the cook's poodle drinks and kibble to hear some more details.

"Always thought he was odd," she told the villagers after her fourth bowl of wine and first bowl of kibble. "Unfriendly like. I'm sure if I offered him a cup, I'd offer it about a hundred times. He didn't never want to mix."

An Irish Setter spoke up. "He had a hard war. He likes the quiet life. That's no reason to-"

But the poodle barked, "Well, who else had a key to the back door, then? There was a spare key hanging in the gardener's hut far back as I remember! Nobody forced the door open last night! No broken windows! All Drake had to do was just creep up to the big house while we was all sleeping..."

The dogs traded dark looks at this and began muttering among themselves. "I always thought that cat had a nasty look about him," a Dalmatian/pointer mix growled.

"If you ask me, the war turned him into a different cat," the landlord's mastiff added.

"Told you I wouldn't like to get on his bad side, didn't I, Abby?" an excited-looking Maltese told her pug friend.

The pug nodded ardently. "He has a horrible temper. I remember when he was a kitten..."

**...**

The next morning, hardly anyone in Mitkof Island doubted that Drake killed the Riddle cats. But over in the dark and dingy pound, Drake was stubbornly repeating again and again that he was innocent, and that the only creature he saw near the house on the day of their deaths was a cat, a stranger with no tail, black fur, and orange-red eyes. Nobody else in the village had seen any such cat, and the police dogs were sure Drake made this cat up.

Then, just when things were looking bad for him, the report on the Riddle cats' bodies came back and changed everything. The police dogs had never seen an odder report. A team of human vets had examined the bodies and had seen that the cats were not poisoned, stabbed, shot, choked, throttled, or harmed at all. In fact (the report continued), the Riddles were in perfect health...apart from being dead.

The vets did note (as if resolute on finding something wrong with the bodies) that the cats had a look of horror on their faces. But as the frustrated police said, whoever heard of three cats dying of fright?

Since there was no proof that the Riddle cats were murdered, the police dogs were forced to let Drake go.

The Riddle cats were buried in the Mitkof Island pet graveyard, and their graves persisted as objects of curiosity for a while. To everyone's surprise, and in a cloud of suspicion, Drake had returned to his cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House.

"I'm sure he killed them, and I don't care what the police say," Abby the pug in the Drooped Jowls bar said. "And if he had any decency, he'd leave by tomorrow morning, knowing as how he _knows_ he did it."

But Drake did not leave. He stayed to manage the garden for the next family who lived in the Riddle House, and then the next...but neither family stayed for long. Perhaps it was somewhat because of Drake that the new owners said there was a nasty feeling about the place, which, in the lack of people, fell into disrepair.

The wealthy human man who owned the Riddle House neither lived there nor put it to any use. They said that he kept it for "tax reasons," though nobody was sure what these might be. The wealthy owner still paid Drake to keep the mice and rats away from the garden. Drake was getting old now, very deaf and his bad leg stiffer than ever. But he was still seen hunting for rats in the flower beds in fine weather, though the rats were starting to be more cunning and creep up on him.

Rats were not the only things Drake had to worry about either. Human teenagers from the village made a habit of throwing stones through the Riddle House's windows. They would always ride their motorcycles over the lawns Drake worked so hard to keep clean of vermin. Once or twice, they broke into the old house for a dare. They knew that old Drake's devoutness to the house and the grounds amounted almost to a mania, and it amused them to see him limping towards them, hissing croakily at them. Drake, for his part, believed the boys persecuted him because they, like their kin, thought him as a cat killer.

**...**

So when Drake awoke one night in August and saw something very odd up at the old house, he merely expected the teenagers to have gone one step further in their attempts to punish him.

It was his bad leg that woke him; it pained him worse than ever in his old age. He got up and limped downstairs into the kitchen with the idea of replenishing his hot-water bottle to ease the stiffness in his paw, thanks to him living with no housefolk. Sitting at the top of the sink, filling the kettle, he looked up at the Riddle House to see lights twinkling in its upper windows. Drake knew at once what was going on. The teens had broken into the house again, and judging by the flaming quality of the light, they had begun to start a fire.

"Stupid kids!" he spat.

Drake could not and would not call the police, for he had mistrusted them ever since they took him in for asking about the Riddles' deaths. He hurried back upstairs as fast as his bad leg would allow and was soon back in his kitchen, shaking his short pelt and removing a rusty old key from its hook by the door. He locked the door, put his own house key under a rug, and set off into the night.

The front door of the Riddle House had no sign of being forced, nor did any of the windows. So Drake limped around to the back of the house until he reached a door completely hidden by ivy, leapt up to hang onto the knob, put the key into the lock, and opened the door without a sound.

He found himself into the hollow kitchen; Drake had not entered it for many years. Still, even though it was very dark, he remembered where the door into the hall was and felt his way to it. His nostrils were full of the smell of decay, his ears pricked for any sound of footsteps or voices.

Drake reached the hall, which was lighter owing to the large windows on either side of the front door, and started to climb the stairs. As he padded up, he blessed the dust that lay thick upon the stone, because it muffled the sound of his paws. On the landing, the Chartreux turned right and saw at once where the intruders were.

At the end of the passage, a door was standing ajar, and a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long slice of gold across the black floor. Quietly, Drake edged closer and closer, able to see a thin slice of the room beyond, for the fire had been lit in the grate. This surprised him, for he had no idea the fire could be lit without someone around. Then he stood still and listened raptly, for a cat's meow spoke within the room, sounding timid and fearful.

"My Lord, if you still hunger, there is some more in the bottle."

"Later," a second voice rumbled. This somehow belonged to a bear...but it was strangely low and cold as a sudden icy wind. Something about that voice made the fur on the back of Drake's neck stand up. "Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail."

Drake turned one of his ears to the door, trying to hear better. Then the clink of a bottle being put down upon some hard surface came, and then the scraping noise of a heavy chair being dragged across the floor was heard. Drake caught a glimpse of a small cat, his back towards the door as he pushed the chair into place. He was wearing a long black cloak, and he appeared to be missing a toe on one of his paws. Then he went out of sight again.

"Where is Nagasri?" the cold voice rasped.

"I...don't know, My Lord," the cat mewled nervously. "She set out to explore the house some time ago, I think."

"Milk her before we go to bed, Wormtail," the second voice rumbled. "I will be hungry during the night. The journey has tired me critically, and I need my sleep."

Confused, Drake swiveled his ear still closer to the door, listening very hard. There was a pause, and then the cat named Wormtail spoke again.

"My Lord, how long we are to stay here?"

The cold voice growled, "Perhaps a quarter-moon...or longer. The place is soberly restful, and the plan cannot go on yet. It would be unwise to act before the AirBall World Trophy is over."

Drake injected a gnarled claw into his ear and slowly rotated it. Besides a buildup of earwax, he had also heard a word that was not a word: "AirBall."

"The...AirBall World Trophy, My Lord?" Wormtail squeaked as Drake still dug vigorously into his ear. "Forgive me, but...I do not understand. Why should we wait until it is over?"

"Because, you mouse-hearted fool, at this very moment, warrior cats from all over the world, big and small, are pouring into the country. And meddlers from the Government of Warriorism will be on duty, on the watch for signs of strange activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, for fear that the kittypets or Twolegs see anything. So we shall wait."

Drake stopped clearing out his ear and took his claw out of that ear. He had just heard the words "Government of Warriorism," "warrior cats," and "kittypets." Plainly, each of these words meant something secret, and Drake could think of only two animals who would speak in code: rats and crows. So the Chartreux crouched low again and listened more closely still.

"You are still determined?" Wormtail asked quietly.

"Of course." There was a note of malice in the cold voice now.

A slight pause...then this Wormtail cat spoke, the words tumbling from him in a rush. It sounded like he was forcing himself to say this before he lost his bravery.

"You know you could do this without Nightfang Potter."

Another pause, more delayed. Then...the second voice hissed softly, "Without him, you say? I see it now..."

The cat's voice rose squeakily, "My Lord, I am not concerned for him! He means nothing to me! I say that if we use another warrior, any if I may add, the thing could be done more quickly! If you let me leave you for a short while...you know I can disguise myself as a mouse very well...I could be back here in two days with a suitable cat."

"Not trying lure Potter into one of your summer jobs, are we?" a newcomer retorted scornfully. "Last cat that went in the Section of Secrecies never came out."

"Quiet," the cold voice rumbled again. To Wormtail, it hissed softly, "I could use another cat. That is true."

"It makes sense," Wormtail mewed, sounding relieved. "Laying your claws on Nightfang Potter would be hard. He is so well protected."

The cold voice replied, "And so you offer to fetch me a substitute? Perhaps the task of nursing me has become tedious for you, Wormtail? Could this idea of deserting the plan be a weak effort to forsake me?"

Wormtail shook his head. "No, My Lord! I-I have no wish to leave you, none at all!"

"Lies!" hissed the second voice. "I can always tell! You are lamenting on returning to me. You sicken me. I see you cringe whenever you look at me, feel you tremor when you touch me..."

"No! My devotion to you-"

"-is nothing but cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you when I need feeding every few hours or so? Who is to milk Nagasri?"

Wormtail tried again, "But you seem so much stronger-"

But the second voice just breathed, "Do not lie to me. I am no stronger than a rat, and a few days alone would rob me of the little health I have regained under your inept care. So silence!"

Wormtail, who was spitting ramblingly, fell silent at once. For a few seconds, Drake heard nothing but the fire crackling, then the cold voice spoke again, in a hiss-like whisper.

"I have my reasons for using Potter, as I have already explained, and I will use no other. I have waited for this for thirteen years. A few more moons, and it will make no difference. As for the shield incasing him, I believe my plan will be successful. The only thing left is a little courage from you, Wormtail, courage you will find. Unless you wish to feel the full amount of power of Red Helmet's wrath?"

"My Lord, please!" Wormtail whimpered, panic in his voice now. "All through our journey, I have gone over the plan in my head. Wetnose Jorkin's loss will not go ignored for long. And if we proceed, if I murder-"

The second voice rasped, "If? _If?_ _If_ you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Government would never need to know that anyone else died. You will do this quietly and without any trouble; I only wish I could do it myself, but in my present condition...no. Now come, Wormtail, one more death and our path to Nightfang is clear. I do not ask you to do it alone. By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us."

"I AM a faithful servant," Wormtail mewled, a trace of glumness in his mew.

"Let me say this differently," the second voice countered coldly. "I need somebody with _brains_, somebody whose loyalty will never waver. And you, regrettably, justify neither necessity."

There was a sulky edge to Wormtail's mew now as he countered, "I was the one who found you. I brought you Wetnose Jorkins. Remember?"

The second voice replied with humor, "True. That was an extraordinary performance I would not have thought you would have done, Wormtail. Still, if truth be told, were you not aware of how useful she would be when you caught her?"

"I-I thought she might be useful, My Lord."

"Lies," the second voice hissed again, the cruel amusement more obvious than ever. "But I do not deny that her information was helpful. Without it, I would never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. This is your reward: I will let you perform a very important task for me, one that many would give their paws to perform."

"R-really, My Lord? What is my task?" Wormtail sounded terrified yet again.

"Ah, Wormtail, you do not want to wait for the surprise? Your part will come at the very end, but I promise that you will have the honor of being useful like Wetnose Jorkins."

"You...you..." Wormtail's voice suddenly got hoarse, as if his mouth went dry. "Are...are you going...to kill me too?"

The second voice hissed, "Why in the name of the Dark Forest would I want to kill you? I killed Wetnose because I had to. She became nothing after my inquiring, useless. Besides, awkward questions would be asked if she went back to the Government with the news that she met you on her vacation. Cats who are supposed to be dead would do well not to run into Government cats at roadside hotels..."

Wormtail muttered something so quietly that even old Drake could not hear it, but it made the "bear" laugh...a demonic laugh...as cold as his speech.

"Are you saying we could have modified her memory? Remember, Memory Charms can be broken by a powerful warrior, as I proved when I questioned her. It would be an insult to her memory not to use the facts I removed from her."

Out in the corridor, Drake became aware that his claws had sunk into the wood and his fur had started bristling. The bear with the cold voice had killed a cat. He was talking about it with no remorse at all...he was talking about it...with amusement. He was very dangerous, and he was planning more murders. And this Nightfang cat, whoever he was, was in danger.

Now Drake knew what he must do: time to go to the police and Alaska's best hunters. He would creep out of the house and head straight for the nearest police station, but the cold voice was speaking again. So Drake stayed where he was, frozen to the spot, listening with all his might.

"One more murder shall do it, and my faithful servant at the Forest shall perform it well. And Nightfang Potter will be mine, Wormtail. It is decided. There will be no more argument about this...wait. I think I hear Nagasri."

And the bear's voice changed, making noises Drake had never heard before; he was hissing and spitting without drawing any breath. Drake thought he must be having a heart attack or seizure.

And then he heard slithering movement behind him in the dark hallway. He turned to look and found himself paralyzed with fright. Something huge was slithering toward him along the dark corridor floor. As it drew nearer to the shard of firelight, he realized with a jolt of horror that it was a gigantic snake at thirteen feet long; it was big enough to swallow a caribou whole.

Horrified and transfixed, Drake stared as its surging body cut a wide curving track through the thick dust on the floor, coming closer and closer. He thought. _What am I going to do? The only place to escape is in the room where the two cats and bear sat plotting murder. But if I stay where I am, the snake would surely kill me!_

But before he made his decision, the snake arrived and then, incredibly and amazingly, passed by. It was following the spitting hissing noises made by the cold voice beyond the door, and in a few seconds, the end of its diamond-patterned tail vanished through the gap.

Drake was trembling, and his fur stuck out in all angles now. Inside the room, the cold voice went on with hissing, and Drake suddenly had a strange yet impossible theory. This bear could talk to snakes like he was talking to another bear. But Drake didn't know what was going on. He wanted to be back in his cat bed with his hot-water bottle and a catnip mouse, but the problem was that his legs didn't want to move. As he stood shaking and trying to toughen himself up, the cold voice switched to English again.

"Nagasri has interesting news," it said.

"In-indeed?" Wormtail whimpered.

The voice said, "Indeed. She says there is an old kittypet standing right outside this room, listening to our conversation."

Drake didn't even have a chance to hide himself. There were pawsteps outside the door, and then the door was flung wide open. A small black Sphynx cat with a pointed face and small watery eyes stood before Drake. He looked like he had a crazy sneering look on his face, but there was also a mixture of fear and alarm in his face.

"Let him in, Wormtail. Did you leave your manners in a barn?"

The cold voice came from the ancient lounger before the fire, but Drake couldn't see the speaker. The snake, however, was curled up on the rotting fireplace rug, like some awful parody of a pet dog. Wormtail beckoned Drake into the room, and though he was still deeply shaken, Drake took a deep breath and limped over the threshold.

The fire was the only source of light in the entire room; it cast long shadows upon the walls. Drake stared on at the back of the armchair, feeling confused. He thought there had been a bear in the house, but it seemed to be even smaller than his servant, for Drake could not see the back of his head or even the shoulder hump you would see on a grizzly.

As Drake got near, the voice hissed, "So you heard everything, eh, kittypet?"

"What's that you're calling me?" Drake spat defiantly. Now that the Chartreux was inside the room and it was the time for action, he felt braver. It had always been so in the war in Iraq, staying beside the American soldiers when they needed it.

"I am calling you a kittypet," the voice coolly replied. "One who is not a warrior."

His voice growing even steadier, Drake retorted, "I don't know what you mean by warrior, but I've heard enough to interest the police tonight. You've done murder and you're planning more murder! And I'll tell you this too," he added on a sudden verge of creativity. "My mate knows I'm up here, and I let my owner know I'm coming over. And if I don't come back-"

But the cold voice growled quietly, "You have no mate or Twoleg owner. Nobody knows you are here. You told nobody you were coming. Do not lie to me, kittypet. For I am Red Helmet, and I know all."

"True," the owner of the third voice, a brown tabby, growled. "Do not lie to our Lord."

"Is that right?" Drake retorted roughly. "Lord, is it? Well, I don't think much of your manners, _My Lord_, but I know how to fight! I've got teeth and claws! Turn 'round and fight me like a cat!"

The cold voice chuckled, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames, "But I am no cat, kittypet. I am much more than that. But why not? I WILL face you after all. Wormtail, turn my chair around."

The Sphynx cat gave a whimper.

_"__You heard me."_

Slowly, looking as if he would rather have done anything also than approach his master and the rug where the snake lay, the cat walked forward and began to turn the chair around. The snake lifted its ugly wedge-shaped head and hissed slightly as the legs of the chair snagged a bit on its rug.

Now the chair was facing Drake, and he saw what was sitting in it. What he saw...was like the spawn of the Devil himself. The gray cat let out a frightened yowl, a yowl so loud that he never heard the words the thing in the chair spoke as a giant black bear's paw reached out towards him. There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound, a yelp, and Drake keeled down. He was dead even before he hit the floor.

Many miles away on Wrangell Island, the cat named Nightfang Potter woke up with a start.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: What'd you think of that, huh? How was it? I decided to introduce...another cat on here that won't appear until much later in the book. But don't worry; I'm sure you all know who that is! And don't worry; I'll try to update often.**

**You all know what to do, right? Clicking on the review button and reviewing. By the way, why'd the reviewing stuff change now? Just asking. Anyways, flames will be used to make S'Mores, but constructive criticism and advice are welcome anytime.**

**See ya next time!**


	2. The Scar

**AvatarCat12: Well, I've started uploading Wildfire again, but I'm also working on a few other FanFics. And speaking of that, I'm also gonna try and get focused on this instead of playing World Of Warcraft a whole lot. But don't worry!**

**Also, I've been trying to put some certain stories up for adoption like Avatar Seekers and Bluebeard's Story. Yep, I'm giving those up. I've just lost interest in them. Sorry. But anyways, here's the disclaimer for the second chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Nada. I own neither series. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter do. **

**Uploading Date: July 9, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Scar**_

Nightfang lay flat on his side, breathing hard as if he was running. He had awoken from a very graphic dream with his paws scrabbling over his face. The old white scar on his forehead, which was in the shape of a lightning bolt, was burning under his pads like someone had just pressed a white-hot cow poker to his skin.

He sat up, one paw still on his scar, the other paw struggling to keep holding his Maine Coon-like weight. After staring around, his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint misty orange light that filtered through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window.

Nightfang rubbed his free paw over the scar again; it was still painful. He turned on the lamp beside him, climbed out of bed, went across the room, opened his closet, and looked into the mirror on the inside of the door. A skinny Maine Coon/British Shorthair mix of fourteen looked back at him, his bright green eyes puzzled amongst his long untidy black pelt. He examined the lightning scar of his reflection more closely; it looked normal, but it was still stinging.

Then Nightfang tried to recall his dream before he woke up. It had seemed real. There had been a cat he knew and one he didn't; there had also been something in a chair. He concentrated hard, frowning and trying to remember.

A vision of a darkened room came to him. There had been a snake on a hearth rug and a small cat named Wormtail Pettigrew, nicknamed Fritz. And there was a cold low demonic voice...the voice of Red Helmet. Nightfang felt like an icy stone had slipped down into his belly at the very thought of it. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what the demon bear looked like, but it was impossible.

_Right when the chair swung around, and I saw what was sitting in it, I had some kind of spasm of horror, which woke me up. Or was it the pain in my scar? And who was that old cat?_

For there had been an old cat; Nightfang had watched him fall dead to the ground. It was all becoming confusing. Nightfang pawed at his face, blocking out his bedroom, as he tried to hold on to the vision of that dim room. But it was like trying to keep water in his paws; the details were trickling away as fast as he tried to hold on to them. Red Helmet and Wormtail had been talking about someone they had murdered, but Nightfang could not remember who that cat's name was. And they were plotting to murder someone else: him!

Nightfang lifted his paws from his face, opened his eyes, and stared around his room as he expected to see something strange. And there was also a number of unusual things in this room: a large trunk standing open at the foot of his bed, revealing a pot, wings, a black cape, and assorted spellbooks. Scrolls littered part of his desk that was not taken up by the large empty cage that his barn owl/snowy owl mix, Katara, would usually perch. A small book laid open on the floor next to his nest; Nightfang had been reading it before he fell asleep. The pictures in this book were all moving, and cats in orange capes were zooming around with wings, tossing a red ball to one another.

Nightfang padded over to the book, picked it up, put it on his nest, and watched one of the cats score a great goal by putting the ball through a high hoop. Then he shut the book. Even though AirBall was (in Nightfang's opinion) the best sport in the world, it couldn't distract him now. He placed Flying With The Gators on his bedside table, padded over to the window, and drew back the curtains to look at the street below.

Evergreen Terrace looked just as a decent suburban street would look in the early Saturday morning. All the curtains were closed. As far as Nightfang could see through the darkness, there wasn't a living creature in sight, not even a cat.

And yet...Nightfang went edgily back to his nest and sat down, running a paw over his scar again. It wasn't the pain that bothered him; Nightfang knew all about pain and injury. He had lost all the bones from his right foreleg once and had them painfully regrown in a night, thanks to an useless mentor. The shoulder on the same leg had been pierced by a huge toxic basilisk fang not long afterward. Only last year Nightfang had fallen fifty sky-lengths from flying wings. He was used to unusual mishaps and wounds; they were inevitable if a cat attended The Forest, School Of Warriorism and had a flair for attracting trouble.

No, the thing that bothered him was the last time when his scar had hurt him, it was because Red Helmet was close by. But Red Helmet couldn't be here now; the idea of the demon bear lurking in the neighborhood was absurd and impossible. Bears had always tried to stay away from where Twolegs lived.

Nightfang listened closely to the silence. Was he expecting to hear the creak of a stair or smell blood? And then he jumped slightly as he heard his cousin Tubby give a big grunting snore from the next room. Nightfang shook his head mentally; he was being mouse-brained. There was no one in the house with him except his relatives, Daniel (his Twoleg owner) and Buck (Daniel's dog), and they were still asleep, their dreams serene and painless. Asleep was the way Nightfang liked the Dursley cats best; it wasn't like they were ever any help to him when they were awake.

Uncle Bristle, Aunt Tulip, and Tubby were Nightfang's only relatives left. They were British Shorthair kittypets who hated magic, which meant that Nightfang was about as welcome in their house as dog dung. They had explained away his long absences at the Forest over the last three years by telling everyone he went to St. Cassius' Locked Center for Hopelessly Criminal Cats. They knew well that, as an underage wizard, Nightfang could not use magic outside the Forest, yet they were still quick to blame him for anything that went wrong with them. Yet Daniel and Buck were accepting towards him, though they didn't know anything about being a warrior. Nightfang had never confided in his relatives (or even Daniel and Buck) or tell them anything about his life in the warrior world. The idea of going to them when they awoke and telling them about his scar hurting him, and about Red Helmet, was pathetic.

And yet it was thanks to Red Helmet that Nightfang had to live with his relatives in the first place. If it hadn't been for him, Nightfang would not have the scar on his forehead. If it hadn't been for Red Helmet, his parents would have still been alive.

Nightfang had just been a year old the night that Red Helmet, the most powerful Dark warrior for a century and a bear gaining power for eleven years, arrived at his house and killed his father and mother (Darkfire and Lilypelt). Red Helmet then turned his claws on Nightfang and performed the curse that had killed many warriors in his steady rise to power...and believe it or not, it had not worked. Instead of killing the kit, the curse had bounced back upon Red Helmet. Nightfang had survived with nothing but a lightning-shaped scratch on his temple, and Red Helmet had been reduced to something barely alive. His powers gone, his life almost snuffed, he escaped; the horror in which the secret society of warriors had lived for so long had finally been lifted, Red Helmet's cohorts scattered, and Nightfang Potter became famous.

It was enough of a shock for Nightfang to discover, on his eleventh birthday, that he was a wild cat; it had been even more disturbing to find out that everyone in the warrior world knew his name. Nightfang had arrived at the Forest to find heads turning and whispers following him to wherever he went. Despite not liking it, he was used to it now. At the end of greenleaf, he would be starting his fourth year at the Forest, and Nightfang was already counting down the days until he would be back like he always did.

But there was still a half-moon to go before he went back. He looked bleakly around his room again, and his eye paused on the birthday cards his two best friends sent him at the end of July. What would they say if Nightfang wrote to them and told them about his scar?

At once, Fawnwillow's panicky tomboyish voice filled Nightfang's head.

_"Your scar hurt? That's really serious, Nightfang. Try writing to Silverstar! I'll go and check up my Common Magical Diseases and Disorders book. Maybe there's something in there about curse scars."_

Yes, that would be good: write to the leader of the Forest, and in the meantime, check a book. Nightfang looked the window at the inky black sky; he doubted a book could help him now. As far as he knew, he was the only living cat to have survived a curse like Red Helmet's curse. It was highly dubious, thus, that he would find his signs listed in Common Magical Diseases and Disorders. As for telling the leader, Nightfang didn't know where Silverstar Dumbledore would go to during the greenleaf vacation. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Silverstar with his long silver tabby pelt and a full length cape, stretched out on a beach in Hawaii as he let a Twoleg scratch gently at his flat face.

Wherever Silverstar was, Nightfang was sure Katara would find him. His owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even to those without an address.

But what would he write? He could write this:

_Dear Silverstar,_

_Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning._

_Sincerely, Nightfang Potter._

_Nah...it sounds stupid._

And so he tried to imagine his other best friend Redstone Weasley's reaction. Just in a moment, Redstone's red furred and lean-muzzled freckled face seemed to swim before Nightfang, wearing a very mystified expression.

_"Your scar hurt? But...You-Know-Who can't be near you right now, can he? I mean...you'd know, right? He'll be trying to kill you again, right? I dunno...maybe scars like these always ache a bit. I'll go ask Dad about it."_

Weaseltail Weasley was a very skilled warrior who worked in the Mistreatment of Twoleg Relic Office at the Government of Warriorism, but he didn't have any specific skill in the matter of curses as far as Nightfang knew. In any case, he didn't like the idea of all the Weasleys knowing that he was getting jittery about a few moments of pain. Weaseltail's mate, Hollywhisker, would fret worse than Fawnwillow, and Berrytail and Cherrynose, Redstone's sixteen-year- old twin brothers, might think he was losing his nerve. The Weasley cats were Nightfang's favorite family in the world; he hoped they might invite him to stay soon (Redstone had mentioned something about the AirBall World Trophy), and he didn't want his visit littered with anxious questions about his scar.

Nightfang kneaded his nest nervously with his paws. What he really wanted (and it felt shameful to admit it) was someone like...a parent. An adult warrior cat whose advice he could ask without feeling weird, someone who cared about him and had good experience with Dark Magic...

And then the solution came to him. He couldn't believe it had taken so long. That cat he could ask was...Padfoot Black.

Nightfang leapt up from his nest, bounded across the room, and sat down at his desk. He pulled a piece of scroll toward him, loaded his feather quill with ink, wrote _Dear Padfoot_, and then paused. He wondered how to phrase his problem, still amazed at how he hadn't thought of Padfoot right away. But then again, perhaps it wasn't so surprising; after all, he had only found out of Padfoot being his godfather just two moons ago.

There was a simple reason for Padfoot's complete absence from Nightfang's life. He had been locked away in Alcatraz, the scary warrior prison guarded by creatures called Dementors, blind soul-sucking demons who had come to search for him at the Forest when he escaped. Yet the British Longhair had been innocent; the murders for which he was imprisoned were executed by Wormtail, Red Helmet's supporter, whom nearly everybody now believed was dead. The Golden Trio (as Nightfang and his friends were called) knew otherwise, however. They had finally faced Wormtail only last year, though only Silverstar believed them.

For one wonderful hour, Nightfang had believed that he was leaving the Dursley cats at last, because Padfoot had offered him a home once his name was cleared. But the chance was swiftly snatched away from him like an eagle catching a fish; Wormtail had escaped before they could take him to the Government, and Padfoot had to flee. Nightfang had helped him flee on the back of a hippogriff called Buckbeak, and since then, Padfoot had been in retreat. The great home Nightfang could have had if Wormtail had not escaped had been haunting him all this greenleaf. It had been hard to return to the Dursley cats knowing that he had nearly escaped them for good.

Still, his godfather had been some help to Nightfang, even if he couldn't be there. It was thanks to Padfoot that Nightfang had all his school stuff in his room with him now. The Dursley cats had never allowed this before; their wish of keeping Nightfang as down as possible, joined with their fear of magic, had made them lock his stuff in the cage in the downstairs closet at every greenleaf. But their attitude changed when they found out that Nightfang had a murderer for a godfather, for Nightfang deliberately forgot to tell them that Padfoot was innocent.

Nightfang had received two letters from his godfather since he had been back. Both had been delivered, not by owls (the usual messengers), but by big glossily colored tropical birds called peacock eagles. Katara did not approve of these colorful invaders; she had been averse to let them drink from her water tray before flying off again. Nightfang, in contrast, liked them; they reminded him of palm trees and white sand, and he hoped that, wherever Padfoot was (he never said, in case the letters were seized), he was enjoying himself. In some way, Nightfang found it hard to image any Dementor surviving for long in bright sunlight; perhaps that was why Padfoot went south. His letters, now hidden under the useful loose floorboards under Nightfang's nest, sounded cheerful, and he had reminded his godson to call him if he ever needed to.

_Well, I need to now._

The lamp seemed to grow vaguer as the cold gray light that led to sunrise slowly crept into the room. Finally, the sun rose over Alaska, his bedroom walls turned gold, and sounds of movement came from Daniel's room. So Nightfang cleared off his desk and reread his finished letter.

_Dear Padfoot,_

_Thanks very much for your last letter. Those peacock eagles were _huge_; they could hardly get through my window!_

_Things are the same as usual back here, but Tubby's diet isn't going too well; you should see how he looks! My aunt found him smuggling Meow Mix treats into his room yesterday. Then my owner told him he would have to send him to a fat camp for cats if he keeps doing it, so he got ticked and threw Daniel's Nintendo Wii out of the window. That's a Twoleg electronic thing you can play games on. It's a bit mouse-brained, really, now that Daniel's busier than ever and hasn't gotten Pokémon Battle Revolution to take his mind off things._

_I'm okay, mainly since my relatives are scared you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to. I'm not sure of what Daniel and Buck might think of that, but I think they might understand._

_A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar started hurting again. Last time that happened, it was because Red Helmet was at the Forest. But I don't think he's anywhere near me now, is he? Do you know if curse scars hurt years afterward?_

_I'll send this with Katara when she gets back; she's off hunting for fish in the harbor now. Say hi to Buckbeak for me._

_Your godson, Nightfang_

"Yeah," Nightfang mewed to himself. "That sounds right."

There was no point in putting the dream in the letter; he didn't want to make it look like he was too worried. He folded up the scroll and laid it aside on his desk, ready for when Katara came back with her catch of salmon. Then he leapt down from his desk, stretched his long forelegs, and opened his closet again. Without looking at his reflection, he started grooming his black pelt before going down to breakfast.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: There we go, folks! Hope you all liked this chapter! I know I liked making it, but I won't like certain parts coming up. Especially about Pug-Face Parkinson. To me, she has ABSOLUTELY no redeeming qualities about her. I think she's there just to be a bitch.**

**Pardon the French here. But anyways, I hope you guys read and review! Those who do will receive a virtual gray cat plush doll for Drake, who died last chapter. Flames won't ever be allowed on here, but advice and constructive criticism are.**

**See ya next time!**


	3. Invitation

**AvatarCat12: Hey everyone! I'm uploading a new chapter because I have to say this to Deuteronomy 18. I'm not gonna say anything bad against it, since I don't wanna raise a stink about it. So I'm gonna answer this question as honestly as I can.**

**To Deuteronomy 18: I already am a Christian. I was baptized as a baby in a Protestant church, and I was accepted as a member of my church at the age of 13. And I hope that solves that question.**

**But anyways, on with the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Warrior Cats aren't mine. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own them.**

**Uploading Date: July 12, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Invitation**_

By the time Nightfang arrived in the kitchen, the three Dursley cats were already seated under the table. None of the gray British Shorthairs looked up at him as he entered or sat down. Uncle Bristle's large flat face was scrounging over the morning's mail, and Aunt Tulip was cutting her pineapple into quarters, her lips pursed over her buck teeth. Only Daniel, his Twoleg owner, greeted him happily while Buck, Daniel's husky/collie dog, barked before going back to his Kibbles 'N' Bits.

Tubby looked furious and sulky and somehow seemed to be taking up even more space in the feeding spot than usual. This was saying something, as he always took up an entire cat cage Daniel had made for him by himself. When Daniel put a quarter of unsweetened pineapple into Tubby's bowl with a casual "Here you go, Tubby", Tubby merely growled and glowered at him.

His life had taken a cold turn since he had come home for greenleaf with his end-of-year report. Bristle and Tulip had managed to find excuses for his bad marks as usual: Tulip always said that her son was a very gifted cat whose teachers didn't understand him, while Bristle added that "he didn't want some little loony for a son anyway." They also skated over the charges of bullying in the report; as Tulip said tearfully, "He's a boisterous little boy, but he wouldn't hurt a fly!" Tubby had just killed one over a fight for food.

However, there were a few suitable comments from the school vet that not even Bristle and Tulip could find excuses for. No matter how much Tulip wailed that Tubby was big-boned, and that his fat was really kitten fat, and that he was a growing kitten who needed lots of food, the fact that the school outfitters didn't stock sweaters big enough for him anymore was true. The school vet had seen what Tulip's eyes (so sharp when it came to spotting pawprints on the gleaming floor, and in observing the comings and goings of other cats) simply refused to see. Far from needing extra food, Tubby had reached roughly the size and weight of a young bear cub.

So after many fits, after arguments that shook Nightfang's bedroom floor, and many scratches Buck received, the new regime had begun. The diet sheet that had been sent by the school vet was taped to the fridge, whose bottom drawer had been emptied of Tubby's favorite stolen Twoleg food (sodas and pizza, chocolate bars and burgers) and filled instead with veggie burgers, fruit, and other things Bristle called "mouse food." To make Tubby feel better about it, Tulip forced the other cats and Buck to follow the diet too. She now passed a slice of pineapple from the table to Nightfang. He saw that his slice was a lot smaller than Tubby's; Tulip seemed to think that to keep up Tubby's drive, she would make sure he got more to eat than Nightfang.

But Tulip had no idea what was concealed under the floorboard upstairs, for Nightfang was not following the diet at all. When he heard that he had to survive greenleaf by eating carrots and not mice, Nightfang had sent Katara to his friends for help, and they rose to the occasion superbly. Katara had returned from Fawnwillow's place with a large box stuffed full of sugar-free Twoleg fruit snacks; her parents were therapy pets for the dentist. Badgerstripe Hagrid, the gamekeeper of the Forest, had obliged with a sack of his own homemade rock cakes (which Nightfang didn't touch, for he had too much experience with his cooking). Hollywhisker, however, had sent the family owl, Dodo, with a huge fruitcake and assorted spiced mice. The poor burrowing owl, old and weak, needed five days to recover from the journey. And on Nightfang's fourteenth birthday (which the Dursley cats ignored) he had gotten four grand birthday cakes, each cake from Redstone, Fawnwillow, Badgerstripe, and Padfoot. He still had two left, so since he was looking forward to a _real_ breakfast, he ate his pineapple slice without complaint.

Bristle pushed the paper to the side with a deep sniff of displeasure and looked down at his own pineapple slice. "Is this it?" he asked his mate grumpily.

Tulip gave him a severe look and jerked her tail pointedly at Tubby, who had already finished his slice and was eyeing Nightfang's with a very bitter look in his piggy little eyes. Bristle gave a great sigh, which ruffled his large bushy mustache fur, and began eating his slice.

The doorbell rang, and Daniel heaved himself out of his chair and set off down the hall, Buck and Bristle following him. Quick as a flash, while Tulip was occupied with the kettle, Tubby stole the rest of his father's pineapple slice.

Nightfang heard talking at the door, and someone laughing, and Daniel laughing along with the mailman. Then the front door closed, and the sound of ripping paper came from the hall, shortly followed by a growl. Tulip had looked up from whatever she was doing and saw where Bristle padded off to. She didn't have to wait long to find out what; after a minute, he was back, looking quite angry.

"You," he barked at Nightfang. "Living room. Now."

Puzzled and wondering what he did this time, Nightfang got up and followed Bristle out of the kitchen and into the living room. Bristle closed the door sharply behind both of them so that Buck wouldn't come in.

"So," he growled, marching over to the fireplace and turning to face Nightfang like he was going to place him under arrest. _"So."_

Nightfang wanted to say "So what?", but he didn't want to test Bristle's temper this early in the morning, mainly when it was already under severe strain from lack of true cat food. So he settled on looking politely puzzled.

Bristle, who had a piece of blue writing paper in his jaws, growled, "This just arrived. Daniel got this in the mail. It's a letter to us about you."

Nightfang just felt even more confused. Who would be writing to Daniel about him? Who did he know who sent letters by the mailman?

Bristle glared at Nightfang, then he looked down at the letter, cleared his throat, and began to read aloud:

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,_

_We have never met personally, but I am sure you have heard from your nephew Nightfang about my son Redstone._

_As Nightfang might have told you, the final of the AirBall World Trophy takes place this Monday night, and my mate, Weaseltail, just bought prime tickets through his connections at the Section of Magical Games and Sports._

_I hope you let us take Nightfang to the match, since this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance; America hasn't hosted the Trophy since 1984, and tickets are hard to come by. But we would be happy to have Nightfang stay with for the rest of greenleaf and to see him safely onto the train back to his school._

_It'll be best for Nightfang to send us your answer as quick as possible in the normal way. The Twoleg mailman has never delivered to our house, and I'm not sure _he_ even knows where it is._

_Hoping to see Nightfang soon,_

_Yours sincerely, Hollywhisker Weasley_

_P.S. I hope we've put enough stamps on._

Bristle finished reading, put the letter on the coffee table, and drew out something else from out of nowhere. He held up the envelope in which Hollywhisker's letter had come, and Nightfang had to try and fight down a laugh. Every single part of the envelope was covered in stamps except for a tiny square on the front, into which Hollywhisker had squeezed the Dursley cats' address in little writing.

"So she DID put enough stamps on," Nightfang mewed, trying to sound like Hollywhisker's was a mistake anyone could make.

"The mailman saw that," Bristle retorted, his yellow eyes narrowing. "Very interested to know where this came from, he was. That's why he rang the bell. Seemed to think it was funny."

Nightfang just chose to not say anything. Other cat would not understand why Bristle would make a fuss about too many stamps, but Nightfang had lived with the Dursley cats long enough to know how prickly they were about anything even a tad unusual. Their worst fear was that someone would find out that they were connected (however distantly they claim) with cats like Hollywhisker.

Bristle still had his gray flat glaring face on Nightfang, who tried to keep his face neutral. If he didn't do or say anything mouse-brained, then he might just be in for the treat of a lifetime. He waited for Bristle to say something, but he merely continued to glare. Sighing on the inside, Nightfang decided to break the ice.

"So...can I go then?" he asked.

A slight spasm crossed Bristle's flat face, and his mustache fur bristled. Nightfang thought he knew what was going on behind the twitching: a furious battle as two of his most vital instincts came into battle. On one paw, letting Nightfang go would make him happy, something he had struggled against for thirteen years. On the other paw, letting him leave the Weasley cats' for the rest of greenleaf would get rid of him a half-moon earlier than anyone could hope, and Bristle hated having Nightfang in the house as long as Buck was around. To give himself some more thinking time, it seemed, he looked down at the letter again.

"Who is this cat?" he finally growled, staring at the signature with disgust.

"You've seen her before, remember?" Nightfang asked. "She's my friend's mother. She was meeting him off the Fore...off the school train at the end of last semester."

He had almost said "Forest Express," and THAT would get his uncle's temper up. Nobody ever mentioned the name of Nightfang's warrior school aloud in the Dursley household. However, he had heard Buck barking about it on one of his nightly barking time.

Bristle screwed up his flat face as if trying to remember something unpleasant. "Chubby sort of cat?" he growled finally. "Load of kittens with red fur?"

Nightfang frowned, furious on the inside of hearing him insult Hollywhisker. He thought it was hypocritical of Bristle to call anyone "chubby," when his own son had finally achieved what he was threatening to do since three and become wider than he was tall. But he kept his mouth shut.

Bristle was checking the letter again. "AirBall?" he muttered under his breath. "What is this rubbish?"

"It's a sport," Nightfang meowed shortly, feeling another stab of annoyance. "Played on wings-"

"All right, all right!" Bristle growled loudly, looking a bit panicky, Nightfang realized with some satisfaction. Apparently his nerves couldn't stand the sound of the word "wings" in his owner's living room. He took refuge in examining the letter yet again. Nightfang could see his mouth form the words "send us your answer...in the normal way."

He scowled. "What does she mean by 'the normal way'?" he spat.

Nightfang replied, "Normal for us. You know, owl post. That's what's normal for warriors," he added before his uncle said anything else.

But Bristle looked outraged as if Nightfang had just said a filthy swearword. Shaking with anger, he shot a jumpy look through the window if expecting to see the neighborhood cats with their ears pressed against the glass. When there were none, he turned back to Nightfang, his teeth bared.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to mention that abnormality under this roof?" he hissed. "You stand there with the coat Tulip and I have groomed on your ungrateful skin-"

"Only after Tubby didn't want to be groomed anymore," Nightfang meowed coldly. What was true was that Daniel couldn't tame the black cat's long fur easily.

"I will not be spoken to like that!" Bristle snarled, trembling with rage.

But Nightfang stood his ground, feeling that he wasn't going to stand for this. The days when he was forced to take every single one of the Dursley cats' stupid rules and cower were gone. He did not want to follow Tubby's diet (which he wasn't following), and he wouldn't let Bristle stop him from going to the AirBall World Trophy.

_Not if I can help it._

So Nightfang took a deep calming breath and then replied, "Okay, so I can't go see the AirBall World Trophy. It's no big deal. So can I go to my room now? I've got a letter to my godfather I want to finish."

He had done it; he had said one certain magic word. Now he watched the anger ebb blotchily from Bristle's flat bristly face, making it look like badly mixed black currant ice cream.

"You're...you're writing to him?" Bristle asked in a would-be calm voice. But Nightfang had seen the pupils of his squinty yellow eyes widen with sudden fear.

"Yeah," Nightfang meowed as casually as he could. "It's been quite a while since he heard from me. You know...if he doesn't, he might think something's wrong."

He stopped there to enjoy the effect these words were leaving. He could almost see the gears working under Bristle's thick hard skull. If he tried to stop Nightfang writing to Padfoot, then his godfather would think Nightfang was being abused. If he told Nightfang he couldn't go to the AirBall World Trophy, Nightfang would write and tell Padfoot, then he would KNOW that his godson was being mistreated. There was only one thing left for Bristle to do; Nightfang could see the decision forming in his uncle's mind as if the great flat face was clear. So Nightfang tried hard not to smile and to keep his own face as blank as possible.

And finally...

"Well, all right then. Fine You can go to this...this stupid...World Trophy thing. You can write and tell these..._Weasleys_ that they're to pick you up. Daniel doesn't have time to go dropping you off all over Alaska. And you can spend the rest of the summer there. And you can go and tell your...godfather...that you're going."

"Okay then," Nightfang replied brightly. "Thanks."

He turned and strolled toward the living room door, fighting the urge to jump into the air and howl with victory. He was going. He was going to the Weasley cats' place, and he was going to watch the AirBall World Trophy! He noticed Buck watching him, and his happy look must have told Buck the same thing, for he started barking.

Outside in the hall he almost slid across the shiny floor and smacked into Tubby, who had been lurking behind the door and hoping to hear Nightfang being scolded. Instead, he looked shocked to see the broad grin on Nightfang's face.

"Good breakfast, wasn't it?" Nightfang purred, licking his lips with a pink tongue. "I feel really full like a hog! What about you?"

Laughing at the dazed look on Tubby's fat flat face, the Maine Coon mix leapt up the stairs three at a time and hurled himself back into his bedroom.

The first thing he saw was that Katara had come back. She was sitting in her cage, staring at Nightfang with her large orange eyes (with small swirls of blue), and clicking her beak in the way that meant she was annoyed. Exactly what she was annoyed about became obvious almost right away.

Nightfang let out a small grunt of pain as what appeared to be a tiny brown feathery tennis ball hit the back of his head. He massaged the spot furiously, looking up to see what had hit him, and saw an elf owl, an owl small enough to fit into his jaws, whizzing excitedly around the room like a loose bullet. Nightfang then saw that the owl had dropped a letter right at his paws. He bent his head down, recognized Redstone's handwriting, then tore open the envelope. Inside was a hastily scribbled note.

_Nightfang,_

_DAD GOT THE TICKETS! Canada versus Germany on Monday night! Mom's writing to your Twoleg owner to ask if they can let you stay. They might already have the letter; I don't know how fast Twoleg post is. Thought I'd send this with Sheep anyway._

Nightfang stared at the word "Sheep," then he looked up at the elf owl now zooming around the light fixture on the ceiling. He had never seen anything that looked less like a sheep in his entire life; maybe he couldn't read the writing. He went back to the letter:

_We'll come and pick you up whether the kittypets like it or not; I mean, you can't miss the World Trophy! Only Mom and Dad figure it's better if we pretend to ask for their permission first. If they say yes, send Sheep back with your answer ASAP, and we'll come get you at five P.M. on Sunday. If not, send Sheep back ASAP, and we'll pick you up at five P.M. on Sunday anyway._

_Fawnwillow's coming over at sunhigh. And Sandthorn's started work at the Section of Worldwide Magical Teamwork. Don't mention anything about Overseas while you're here unless you want your whiskers bored off you._

_See you soon_

_Redstone_

"Settle down!" Nightfang meowed as the elf owl flew low over his head, chirping madly with what he could assume was pride at having delivered the letter to the right cat. "Come here! I need you to take my answer back!"

The elf owl fluttered down on top of the bigger owl's cage. Katara glared coldly up at it, as if she was daring it to come any closer. Buck, who had come upstairs to investigate the noise, wagged his long curly tail at the sight of the owls.

Nightfang grabbed his feather quill once more, grabbed a fresh piece of scroll, and wrote:

_Redstone,_

_It's okay. My uncle says I can come. See you at five P.M. tomorrow._

_Can't wait._

_Nightfang_

He folded this note up into a small square and, with huge difficulty, tied it to the elf owl's leg as it bounced on the spot with delight. The moment the note was secure, the elf owl set off again; it zoomed out of the window and out of sight.

Sighing, Nightfang turned his head to Katara. "Feel like going on a long journey, girl?" he asked her.

In reply, the gray-&-white owl hooted in a noble sort of a way.

"Good. Can you take this to Padfoot for me?" he asked, picking up his letter. "Wait. I just wanna finish it."

He unfolded the scroll and hastily added an addition.

_Hey Padfoot. If you want to chat, I'll be at my friend Redstone's for the rest of greenleaf. His dad's got us tickets for the AirBall World Trophy!_

When the letter was finished, he tied it to Katara's leg. She kept unusually still as if resolute on showing him how a real owl should behave.

"I'll be at Redstone's when you get back, okay?" Nightfang meowed.

Katara nipped his ear warmly, then, with a soft swishing noise, she spread her huge snowy owl wings and soared out of the open window.

Nightfang watched her fly out of sight, then he slunk under his nest, opened the loose floorboard, and pulled out a pawful of birthday cake. He sat on the floor eating it and licking the chocolate icing off his paw, savoring the joy that was flooding through him. He had cake (he wished he could give some to Buck, but he didn't want Buck to die), and Tubby had nothing but pineapple. It was a bright greenleaf day, he would be leaving Wrangell Island tomorrow, his scar was back to normal again, and he was going to watch the AirBall World Trophy. Now it was hard to feel worried about anything...even Red Helmet.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: Well, this chapter's done with! I'm sorry if there are no movie parts yet, but on the movie, it basically starts with the Portkey chapter. And also, Deuteronomy 18, I hope my answer to you was okay. And I'm sorry I have to keep this chat short.**

**Anyways, read and review, folks! Those who do will receive a virtual plush doll of either Manfred, Sid, Diego, or Scrat, for Ice Age 4's coming out tomorrow. No flames allowed, but advice and constructive criticism are.**

**Plus, I forgot to say this. Nagasri in India means "jewel of serpents."  
**

**See ya next time!**


	4. Return To The Tunnels

**AvatarCat12: Well, here we are, folks. Sorry if I haven't uploaded recently. But you all know what I've been up to...stuff. That's all.**

**Anyways, yesterday, I also saw the end of the episode of Family Guy called Seashell Seahorse Party. I know I promised I would never watch that episode ever again after what happened, but I only saw the end of it. Also, I don't like Meg for some apparent reason. Please don't ask me why; I just don't.**

**But anyways, enough with the awkwardness. On with the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: Remember, folks. I DON'T own Harry Potter, and I DON'T own Warrior Cats. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own them.**

**Uploading Date: July 24, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Return To The Tunnels**_

By twelve P.M. the next day, Nightfang's school suitcase was packed with his school things and all his prized possessions: the Invisibility Pelt he inherited from his father Darkfire, the wings he got from Padfoot, the Marauders' Map he was given by Berrytail and Cherrynose Weasley last year. He had emptied his hiding place under the loose board of all food and checked every place of his bedroom for forgotten books or quills. He even took down the wolf calendar on the wall counting down the days to September the first, on which he liked to cross off the days left until he returned to the Forest.

The atmosphere inside the house was extremely tense, but it didn't affect Daniel or Buck, for they didn't know about it. The looming arrival at their house of an assortment of warrior cats was making the Dursley cats uptight and cross. Bristle had looked flat-out alarmed when Nightfang told him that the Weasley cats would be arriving at five o'clock the very next day.

"I hope you told them to groom themselves properly," he snarled at once. "I've seen the sort of stuff your lot got on their bodies. They better have the decorum to put on normal cat clothes, that's all."

Nightfang felt a slight sense of foreboding. He had never seen Weaseltail or even Hollywhisker have anything that the Dursley cats would call "normal." Their kits might throw on some kittypet sweaters during greenleaf, but their parents wore long capes in variable kinds of scruffiness. Nightfang wasn't bothered at all about what the neighbors would think, but he was concerned about how rude his relatives might be to the Weasley cats if they turned up looking like their worst idea of warriors.

Bristle had been groomed up to the maximum. To some, this might have looked like a gesture of welcome or admiration from Twolegs, but Nightfang knew it was because Bristle wanted to look imposing and daunting. Tubby, though, looked somehow reduced. This was not because the diet was finally taking effect, but it was due to fear. He had emerged from his last encounter with a fully grown warrior (Badgerstripe) with a curly pig's tail poking out of his head, and Daniel had had to pay for its removal at an animal hospital in Juneau. It wasn't totally surprising, therefore, that Tubby kept pressing one paw to his head, and walking sideways so as not to be the same target to the enemy.

Lunch was an almost silent meal, and Tubby didn't even complain the food (slices of cheddar cheese and celery). Tulip didn't eat anything at all; her weak yellow eyes were narrowed, and she seemed to be chewing her tongue. She looked like she was biting back the furious tirade she longed to hurl at Nightfang.

"Their owner will be driving, of course?" Bristle growled at Nightfang as they ate.

Nightfang gave a small groan, having not thought of that. How were the Weasley cats going to pick him up? They didn't have a monster anymore; the old red Dodge truck they once owned was now living feral in the Forbidden Swamp at the Forest. But Weaseltail had borrowed a monster from the Government last year; possibly he would do the same today?

So he mewed, "I think so."

Bristle snorted, but he said nothing else. Normally, the big gray cat would have asked what car the Weasley cats' hippie owner, Samantha, drove; he tended to judge Twolegs by how big and classy their cars were. But Nightfang doubted Bristle would be okay with Weaseltail even if Samantha drove a Mustang.

**...**

For most of sunhigh, Nightfang spent his time in his bedroom. He couldn't stand watching Tulip snoop out through the curtains every few seconds like there had been a warning about an escaped elephant from the zoo. Buck would often come over to check on him every now and then before going back to the backyard. Finally, at a quarter to five p.m., Nightfang went back downstairs and into the living room.

Tulip was impulsively smoothing down the cushions. Bristle was pretending to watch the Animal Planet show with Daniel, but he kept his squinty yellow eyes on the door, and Nightfang knew he was really listening for the sound of an approaching car. Tubby was sitting an armchair, his fat forepaws clamped firmly on his head. Buck was just staring around in space, watching the new hamster Daniel bought. Nightfang couldn't take the tension; he left the room and went and sat on the stairs in the hall, his eyes on his watch and his heart pumping fast from excitement and nerves.

Five p.m. came and went, but the Weasley cats still did not arrive. Bristle, itching in his fur, looked out the window, peered up and down the street, and then drew his head back quickly.

"They're late!" he snarled at Nightfang.

"I know," Nightfang mewed. "Um...maybe the traffic got bad or something."

Ten minutes passed by, then it turned to twenty-five minutes. Now Nightfang was starting to feel worried himself. At half past five, he heard Bristle and Tulip talking in short mutters in the living room while Daniel had gone out to hang out with some friends for a while.

"No respect at all."

"We might've had a meeting."

"Maybe they think they'll be invited to dinner if they're late."

"Well, they won't be," Bristle growled, and Nightfang heard him start pacing the living room. "They'll take him and go, and there'll be no hanging around...if they're coming at all. Probably mistaken the date. I believe they and those strays don't set much store by promptness. Either that or they drive some faulty car that's broken d-AARRRGH!"

Hearing this, Nightfang jumped up. From the other side of the living room door, the sounds of the three Dursley cats scrambling, panic-stricken, across the room were heard. Next moment, Tubby came tearing into the hall, looking terrified, and Buck came into the living room, barking wildly.

"What happened?" Nightfang asked as he ran beside his cousin and canine friend. "What's the matter?"

But Tubby didn't seem able to speak. His head still lowered, he waddled as fast as he could into the kitchen. Following Buck's wagging tail, Nightfang hurried into the living room.

Loud bangs and scrapings were coming from behind Daniel's boarded-up fireplace, which had a fake coal fire plugged in front of it. Daniel had plugged up the fireplace for two reasons: he liked to have a little electric fire, and bats had swarmed into the house a few days before.

"What is it?" Tulip gasped, backing into the wall and staring, terrified, toward the fire. "What is it, Bristle?"

But they were left in doubt barely a second longer. Voices could be heard from inside the blocked fireplace.

"Ouch! No, Berrytail! Go back. There's been some kind of mistake. Tell Cherrynose not to come any-OUCH! Cherrynose, there's no room. Go back quickly and tell Redstone-"

"Maybe Nightfang can hear us, Dad? Maybe he'll be able to let us out."

There was a loud scratching sound of claws on the boards behind the electric fire. Then some yowling went on, saying, "Nightfang? Can you hear us?"

The Dursley cats rounded on Nightfang like angry beavers, Bristle growling, "What is this? What's going on here?"

"They've...tried getting here with Floo powder," Nightfang mewed, fighting a great big desire to laugh. Ignoring Buck, who was standing between them and growling at the cats, he added, "They can travel by fire...only Daniel blocked the fireplace. Hang on."

He approached the fireplace and, resting his forepaws on the base, called through the boards, "Mr. Weasley? Can you hear me?"

The clawing stopped, and someone inside the chimney hissed, "Shh!"

"Mr. Weasley, it's Nightfang," the black cat called. "The fireplace is blocked up. You won't be able to get through there."

There was silence. Then... "Damn! What did they want to block it up for?"

"He's got an electric fire set up," Nightfang explained.

"Really?" Weaseltail's voice asked excitedly. "Eclectic, you say? With a plug as they call it? Great StarClan above, I must see that! Let me think...ouch! Redstone!"

Redstone's voice now joined the others'. "Hey, what're we doing here? Did something go wrong down there?"

"Oh no," Berrytail's voice mewed very sarcastically. "This is _exactly_ where we wanted to be."

"Yeah, we're having a TON of fun here," Cherrynose added, his voice muffled as if he was being squashed against the wall.

Weaseltail's voice meowed vaguely, "Boys, please don't argue. I'm trying to think of what to do...yes...it must be the only way. Step away from the fireplace."

Nightfang nodded and retreated to the sofa, Buck following him. Bristle, however, moved forward and yowled at the fire, "Wait a minute! What exactly are you going to-"

BOOM.

The electric fire shot across the room as the boarded-up fireplace burst outward, expelling all four cats in a cloud of rubble and loose chippings. Tulip shrieked and fell back off the coffee table, and Bristle caught her scruff before she hit the floor. Then they all gaped, speechless, at the Weasley cats, all of whom had bright ginger fur, including the twins, who were identical to the last hair. Seeing them, Buck began howling and fled to the other side of the living room.

"That's better," Weaseltail panted, brushing dust from his fur and straightening up. "Ah...so you must be Nightfang's aunt and uncle! And that must be your dog!"

Tall, thin, and graying, he moved toward Bristle, nodding, but Bristle backed away, dragging Tulip with him. Words utterly failed Bristle. His neatly-groomed coat was covered in white dust, which had settled in his fur and made him look like he had just became an ancient cat.

Seeing this, Weaseltail turned to look back at the blasted fireplace. "Er...sorry about that, folks. It's my fault. It didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network...just for a short time...so we could get pick Nightfang up. Twoleg fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, so to say, but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Directive Section, and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a tick, though, so don't worry. I'll just light a fire to send my sons here back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate out of here."

Nightfang was ready to bet the fur on his tail that neither the Dursley cats nor Buck had even understood a word he said. They were still gaping at Weaseltail, thunderstruck as if he was just run over by a monster. Tulip staggered upright again and hid behind Bristle while Buck just gaped on in shock at the cats.

"Hello there, Nightfang!" Weaseltail purred brightly. "Got your things ready?"

"Yep. It's upstairs," Nightfang purred, grinning back.

"We'll get it," Berrytail spoke up right away. Giving Nightfang a craft wink, he and Cherrynose left the room. They knew where his bedroom was since they had once rescued him from it in the middle of the night. And Nightfang suspected that they were hoping to see Tubby; they had heard a lot about him from Nightfang himself.

"Well then," Weaseltail meowed, waving his tail while he tried to find words to break the silence. "Very...very nice place you have here."

As the usually clean living room was now covered in dust and brick, this remark didn't go down too well with the Dursley cats. Bristle's nostrils flared even more, and Tulip twitched her tail around as if trying to clean the mess up. However, they seemed too scared to say anything. Only Buck seemed to accept these new cats, for he started licking Redstone happily on the face.

Weaseltail was looking around, interest flaring in his blue eyes. Nightfang knew the American Shorthair loved everything to do with Twolegs and kittypets despite being a warrior, earning him some scorn from certain warriors. He could see him itching to go and examine the television, the DVD player, and the newly-bought Nintendo Wii.

"They run off eccentricity, right?" Weaseltail asked knowledgeably. "Ah...I can see the plugs. I collect plugs," he added to Bristle. "And batteries. Got a very large collection of batteries I just collect from dollar stores. My mate thinks I'm crazy, but there you are."

Of course, Bristle would think that Weaseltail was crazy too. He moved ever so slightly to the right, screening Tulip from view as if he thought Weaseltail would suddenly leap at them and attack. Nightfang rolled his eyes at the very thought of it.

Tubby suddenly reappeared in the room as Buck dropped him off. Nightfang could hear the clunk of his suitcase on the stairs, and knew that the sounds had scared the fat gray cat out of the kitchen; not only that, but it appeared that Buck dragged him here. Tubby edged along the wall, gazing at Weaseltail with scared eyes, and attempted to hide himself behind his parents. Alas for him, Bristle's size, while large enough to hide scrawny Tulip, was not even near enough to hide a fat cat like him.

"So this is your cousin, Nightfang?" Weaseltail asked, taking another brave stab at making some good conversation.

"Yep," the Maine Coon mix purred. "That's Tubby."

He and Redstone traded amused glances and then quickly looked away; the temptation to laugh was almost crushing. Tubby was still looking away as if he was afraid rocks might flatten his face even farther. Weaseltail, on the other paw, seemed sincerely concerned about his behavior. Indeed, from the tone of his voice when he next spoke, Nightfang was quite sure that Weaseltail thought Tubby was quite as crazy as the Dursley cats thought he was.

Instead, Weaseltail's blue eyes were filled with sympathy rather than fear as he meowed kindly, "Having a good greenleaf?"

Tubby merely whimpered like a dog. Nightfang saw him back away even farther until he was pressed up against the grandfather clock.

Berrytail and Cherrynose finally came back into the living room carrying Nightfang's stuff. They glanced around as they entered and spotted Tubby, their faces cracking into identical evil grins.

"Ah, right. Better get a move on then," Weaseltail meowed. He held his tail-wand high in the air (Nightfang saw the Dursley cats shrink up against the wall), then he pointed his tail-wand at the hole in the wall behind him and yowled, _"Incendio!"_

Flames rose in the fireplace, crackling merrily like they had been burning for hours. Weaseltail took a small string bag from his cape, untied it, took a pinch of powder inside, and threw it into the flames, which turned bright green and roared higher than ever.

When this was done, Weaseltail meowed, "Off you go, Berrytail."

"Coming," Berrytail meowed. Then... "Aw shit...hold on..."

A bag of bonbons had spilled out of his cape pocket, and the contents were now rolling in every direction. They were big fat bonbons in brightly colored wrappers. Berrytail scrambled around like he was catching mice, stuffing them back into his cape pocket. Then he gave the Dursley cats a cheery smile, stepped forward, and strolled right into the fire, yowling "The Tunnels!" Tulip gave a little shuddering gasp, there was a whooshing sound, and Berrytail was gone.

"All right, Cherrynose. You and the suitcase," Weaseltail went on.

Nightfang then helped the ginger tom carry the suitcase forward into the flames and turn it onto its end so that he could hold it in his jaws better. Then, with a second whoosh, Cherrynose called "The Tunnels!" and vanished too.

Weaseltail nodded before going on, "You next, Redstone."

"See ya next time!" Redstone meowed cheerfully to the Dursley cats. He smiled broadly at Nightfang, then he stepped into the fire, yowled "The Tunnels!" and disappeared.

Now Nightfang and Weaseltail were both remaining. As he started to turn around, he looked over his shoulder and meowed, "Well...see ya later."

They didn't say anything to him. So Nightfang moved towards the fire, but just as he reached the edge of the fireside, Weaseltail put out his tail and held him back. He was looking over at the Dursley cats in amazement.

"Your nephew said good-bye to you," he meowed, frowning. "Didn't you just hear him?"

"It's okay," Nightfang muttered to the American Shorthair. "Honestly, I don't care."

But Weaseltail did not remove his tail from the entrance to the fireplace. "You know you aren't going to see him till next greenleaf," he told Bristle in mild annoyance. "Are you going to say good-bye or not?"

Bristle's squashed face worked furiously. The idea of being taught concern by a cat who had just blasted away half the living room wall seemed to be causing him strong suffering. But Weaseltail still had his tail-wand on his tail, and Bristle's yellow eyes darted to it once, before he muttered sullenly, "Good-bye, then."

"See ya next time," Nightfang meowed, putting a paw forward into the green flames, which felt pleasantly like warm breath. But at that moment, a horrible gagging sound erupted from behind him, and Tulip started to scream as Buck ran out of the living room.

Nightfang wheeled around in time to see Tubby no longer standing behind his parents. He was crouching beside the coffee table, gagging and sputtering on a long pink slimy thing that was swelling from his mouth. One dazed second later, Nightfang realized that the foot-long thing was actually Tubby's tongue...and a brightly colored bonbon wrapper was lying on the floor before him.

Tulip hurled herself over to beside her kit, seized the end of his swollen tongue, and attempted to wrench it out of his mouth. Rather obviously, Tubby squealed and sputtered worse than ever, trying to fight her off. Bristle was yowling and jumping about on the spot, and Weaseltail had to shout to make himself heard.

"Not to worry! I'll sort him out!" he yelled, padding towards Tubby with his tail-wand held up. But Tulip screamed even worse than ever and threw herself on top of her son, shielding him from the ginger tom.

Seeing this, Weaseltail insisted, "I already told you! It's just a simple process! Look, it was the bonbon; my son Berrytail can be a real practical joker. But it's only a Growth Spell...at least, I think it is...just please, I can fix it!"

But instead of being relieved, the Dursley cats became more fearful. Tulip was wailing loudly and hysterically, tugging Tubby's tongue as if determined to rip it out. Tubby appeared to be stifling under the combined pressure of his mother and his tongue. Bristle, who had now lost control completely, seized an antique plate from near the fireplace and threw it very hard at Weaseltail, who ducked in time for it to be shattered in the blasted fireplace.

"Now really!" Weaseltail hissed angrily, waving his tail-wand. "I'm just trying to help!"

Shouting like a wounded rhino, Bristle picked up another dish. So as he unsheathed his claws, Weaseltail turned to Nightfang, meowing, "Nightfang, go! Just go! I'll sort this out!"

Nightfang didn't want to miss the fun, but Bristle's second ornament barely missed his left ear, so he thought it was best to leave the situation to Weaseltail. So he stepped into the fire, looking over his shoulder as he yowled "The Tunnels!" His last brief glimpse of the living room was of Weaseltail swiping a third ornament away from Bristle's jaws, Tulip bawling and lying on top of Tubby, and Tubby's tongue lolling around like a big slimy snake.

But then, Nightfang began to spin very fast, and Daniel's living room was whipped out of sight in a rush of emerald-green flames. He was returning to the Tunnels.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: Well, here we are, folks. At the end of chapter 4 and going onward. I hope you all liked it...'cause I sure did!**

**I have a proposition for you all. Leafpaw will be appearing and, since she'll be a third year, she'll get her warrior name. And that's where you all come in! You all can decide on her warrior name, but it's gotta have two syllables. Plus, I already have a description of Charlie Weasley's cat form, so Bill Weasley's cat description is open!**

**So...read and review! Those who do can ask for Leafpaw's warrior name. Flames will NEVER be allowed on here, but any advice and constructive criticism are welcome anytime. And don't forget what I said about Bill's cat form's description.**

**See ya next time!**


	5. Weasleys' Warrior Wheezes

**AvatarCat12: Well, here we are, folks! And I'm gonna try and get worked on this chapter again after days of not uploading.**

**On here, we'll see the cat forms of Bill and Charlie Weasley, and I hope you like them! A few people (Red Infinity Dragon and WildCroconaw) have asked me to put in their pelt colors, and I did so. Plus, Leafpaw's warrior name will be revealed on here. But enough of that for now. Time for the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: Remember, folks. I don't and never will own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter.**

**Uploading Date: July 28, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Weasleys' Warrior Wheezes**_

Nightfang spun faster and faster as he tucked his tail under him, blurred fireplaces flashing past him, until he started to feel sick and closed his eyes. Then, when he felt himself slowing down, he rose to his haunches, held up his forepaws, and came to a halt in time to stop himself from falling face forward out of the Weasley cats' kitchen fire.

"Hey Nightfang!" Berrytail purred excitedly, pulling Nightfang up by the scruff until he could stand. "So did he eat it?"

"Yeah," Nightfang replied. "What was it?"

Berrytail smirked proudly. "Big-Tongue Bonbons. Cherrynose and I invented them. We've been looking for someone to test them on all greenleaf."

The tiny yet cozy kitchen exploded with laughter; Nightfang looked around to see Redstone and Cherrynose sitting at the scrubbed wooden table with two cats he had never seen before. But he knew instantly who they must be: Birdstorm and Clawfoot, the two eldest Weasley brothers.

"Hey Nightfang. What's up?" the nearest one meowed, smiling and nodding.

As Nightfang nodded back, he saw large scars on the back of his head. This had to be Clawfoot, who worked with griffins and other animals in Africa. Clawfoot was built like the twins, sturdier than Sandthorn and Redstone, who were lanky. He had a broad kindly face, which was rough, and his pelt was different from the other Weasley cats: dark gray with an auburn-red chest, belly, and paws. His forelegs were well-built, and one of them had a large shiny burn on it. He must have had that from a dragon.

Birdstorm sat up, smiling, and also nodded towards Nightfang. This cat came as something of a surprise. Nightfang knew that he worked for the warrior bank, Liverpool, and that he had been Head Cat at the Forest; he had always imagined him to be an older Sandthorn: trivial about rule-breaking and fond of being bossy. But Birdstorm was...cool. He was tall with long ginger fur that was too long for an American Shorthair; his ginger pelt was littered with black patches. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. He looked like he would blend in well at a rock concert, except that Nightfang saw that his claws were not normal claws...they were dog claws.

Before any of them could say anything else, there was a faint popping noise, and Weaseltail appeared out of thin air behind Cherrynose. He was looking even angrier than Nightfang had ever seen him; in fact, he had never seen him angry before.

"That wasn't funny, Berrytail!" he snapped. "What did you give that young kittypet?"

"I didn't give him anything," Berrytail replied, sporting another evil grin. "I just dropped it...it was his fault he ate it. I didn't tell him to."

But Weaseltail yowled, "You dropped it on purpose! You _knew_ he'd eat it! You _knew_ his owner put him on a diet!"

"How big did his tongue get?" Cherrynose asked excitedly.

"It was as long as a mouse before his parents let me shrink it!"

Nightfang and the other Weasley cats laughed out loud again.

Weaseltail yowled, "It's not funny! That sort of behavior seriously demoralizes warrior-kittypet relations! I spend half my entire life protesting against the abuse of kittypets, and my own sons treat it as a joke!"

"We didn't give it to him because he's a kittypet!" Berrytail insisted huffily.

Cherrynose added, "We only gave it to him because he's a great big bully. Isn't he, Nightfang?"

Earnestly, Nightfang told the Weasley patriarch, "Yeah. He is."

"That's not the point!" Weaseltail hissed before rounding on his twin sons. "You just wait until I tell your mother-"

"Tell me what?" a voice asked behind them.

Hollywhisker had just entered the kitchen. She was a plump ginger tabby she-cat with a kind face, though her amber eyes were now narrowed with suspicion. Seeing Nightfang, she smiled and purred, "Hello, Nightfang dear. Lovely to see you again." Then her eyes snapped back to her mate and repeated her question, "Tell me what, Weaseltail?"

Weaseltail hesitated. Nightfang could tell that, however furious he was with his twin sons, he hadn't really planned to tell Hollywhisker what had happened. There was a silence as Weaseltail eyed his mate quite nervously.

Then two she-cats leapt through the cat-flap into the kitchen to stand behind Hollywhisker. One of the she-cats, a bushy-furred light brown tabby Angora mix with orange eyes and long canine fangs, was Nightfang's and Redstone's friend, Fawnwillow Granger. The other, who was a bit shorter with red-orange fur, was Redstone's little sister, Leafheart; Redstone had told him about her warrior name in a previous letter. Both of them smiled at Nightfang, who smiled back, which made Leafheart blush. She had liked him ever since his first visit to the Tunnels.

"Tell me what, dear?" Hollywhisker repeated a third time, her voice getting firmer.

"It's nothing," Weaseltail mumbled. "The twins were just...I've had a talk with them, that's all."

Hollywhisker frowned. "What did they do this time? If it has anything to do with Weasleys' Warrior Wheezes..."

Fawnwillow flicked her bushy tail to the stairs and meowed, "Hey Redstone. How about you show Nightfang where he's sleeping?"

"He knows where he's sleeping," Redstone replied. "My room. He slept there last time."

"We can all go," Fawnwillow mewed pointedly.

"Oh...right."

Cherrynose got up from his seat and meowed, "We'll come too."

"Oh no you don't! You stay in that spot!" Hollywhisker snapped.

Not wanting to get in the middle of this, Nightfang and Redstone edged out of the kitchen. They, Fawnwillow, and Leafheart set off along the thin hall and up the rocky staircase that zigzagged through the house to the upper floors.

"What are Weasleys' Warrior Wheezes?" Nightfang asked as they climbed up the stairs.

Redstone and Leafheart both laughed, yet Fawnwillow didn't. Then Redstone meowed, "Mom found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning their room. Long price lists for stuff they created. Joke stuff. Fake tail-wands and trick sweets. LOTS of stuff. It was so awesome. I never knew they invented all that."

"We've heard explosions from their room for days, but we never thought they were actually making things," Leafheart added. "We thought they just liked the noise they were making."

"Only thing is, most of the stuff...ALL of it...was a bit unsafe," Redstone spoke up. "And they were planning to sell it at the Forest to make some money, and Mom got angry at them. She told them they can't make any more and burned all the order forms. She's mad at them anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected them to."

Nightfang knew that term anywhere. O.W.L.s were Ordinary Warrior Levels, the tests cats from the Forest took at the age of fifteen.

Leafheart went on, "And then there was this big quarrel 'cause Mom wants them to join Dad in the Government. And _they_ told _her_ they just wanted to open a joke shop."

Just then, a door on the second landing opened beside them. A pointed face poked out, wearing black glasses and a very bothered look on his face.

"Hey, Sandthorn," Nightfang meowed.

"Hello, Nightfang," Sandthorn meowed. "I was just wondering who was making all that noise. I'm trying to work in here. I've got a report to finish for the office, and it's rather difficult to think with cats thundering up and down the stairs."

"We're not _thundering_, "Redstone growled irritably. "We're _walking_. Sorry if we're disturbing the secret workings of the Government."

Nightfang waved off another argument with his tail before turning to Sandthorn. "So what're you working on?"

"An article for the Branch of Worldwide Warrior Teamwork," Sandthorn answered haughtily. "We're trying to regulate pot thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a bit too thin if you ask me. Leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year."

"_That'll_ change the world," Redstone snorted. "Front page of the Daily Warrior, pot leaks."

Sandthorn's ears flattened. "You can sneer all you want, Redstone," he hissed heatedly, "but unless some sort of global law is executed, we might find the market flooded with fragile light bottomed merchandises that utterly endanger-"

Redstone just muttered, "Yeah, sure," started off upstairs again.

Sandthorn ducked his head back inside and slammed his door shut. As Nightfang, Fawnwillow, and Leafheart followed Redstone up three more flights of stairs, yowls from the kitchen below echoed up to them. It sounded like Weaseltail just told Hollywhisker about the bonbons.

Redstone's room (at the top of the house) looked the same the last time Nightfang had come over to stay: the same posters of his friend's favorite AirBall team, the Alabama Gators, were flying and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and the fish tank on the windowsill, which had once held frog spawn, now contained a huge African bullfrog. Redstone's old mouse, Scrapper, was here no more (for he was actually a fraud), but now there was the tiny elf owl that had delivered Redstone's letter to Nightfang at Evergreen Terrace. It was hopping up and down in a small cage and twittering madly.

"Shut up, Sheep," Redstone muttered, edging his way between two of the four nests squeezed into the room. Then he told Nightfang, "The twins are sleeping in here because Birdstorm and Clawfoot are in their room. Sandthorn gets to keep his room to himself because he's gotta work."

"That's nice, but...why'd you call that owl Sheep?" Nightfang asked him.

"Because he's being an ass," Leafheart answered. "His real name is Sheepinton."

"Yeah, and that's not a stupid name," Redstone muttered cynically. To Nightfang, he explained, "Leafheart named him because she thinks it's sweet. I tried to change it, but it was too late; he won't answer to anything else. So now he's Sheep. I gotta keep him up here because he annoys Dodo and Poseidon. And let me tell you...he annoys me a lot too."

"Sheep" zoomed happily around his cage, hooting shrilly. Nightfang knew Redstone too well to take him seriously. He had complained continually about his old mouse, Scrapper, but he had been upset when Fawnwillow's badger/ferret mix, Garfield, appeared to have eaten him up.

Speaking of Garfield, Nightfang asked Fawnwillow, "Where's Garfield at?"

"Out in the yard," she explained. "He likes chasing turkeys. He's never seen any before. All he's seen at his old home before I bought him were chickens."

"So Sandthorn's enjoying his work, then?" Nightfang asked, sitting down on a nest and watching the Gators zoom in and out of the posters on the ceiling.

Redstone muttered darkly, "Enjoying it? I don't think he'd even want to come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him started on the subject of his boss 'cause he'll start saying, 'According to Mr. Crouch...as I was saying to Mr. Crouch...Mr. Crouch is of the very best opinion...Mr. Crouch was just telling me...' I think they'll be dating any day now."

Nightfang snorted at this as Fawnwillow asked, "Did you have a good greenleaf, Nightfang? Did you get our food packages and everything?"

Nightfang nodded, licking his lips. "Yeah. And thanks. Those cakes saved my life."

"Good. And did you eat some of the sugarless snacks I sent you?" Fawnwillow asked.

"Yeah, I ate some. They weren't that bad."

"And have you heard from Pad-?" Redstone began, but a swift hiss from Fawnwillow made him quiet down.

Nightfang knew the ginger tom was going to ask him about Padfoot. All of the Golden Trio (as they were called) had been so deeply involved in helping Padfoot escape from the Government of Warriorism that Redstone and Fawnwillow were as concerned about Nightfang's godfather as he was. However, talking about him in front of Leafheart was NOT a good idea. Nobody but they and Silverstar knew about how he escaped and they believed in his innocence.

"I think they stopped quarrelling downstairs," Fawnwillow meowed in an effort to cover the awkward moment, for Leafheart was looking curiously between the two toms. "Should we go down and help your mom with dinner?"

"Yeah, sure," Redstone meowed.

The four cats left the room and went back down the stairs to find Hollywhisker in the kitchen, looking cross. Samantha, who was the Weasley cats' owner, had apparently come back from the store and was putting things away. When the four young warriors reached downstairs, the plump ginger tabby she-cat turned towards them.

"We're eating out in the garden," she meowed. "There's not room for eleven cats and a Twoleg in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Birdstorm and Clawfoot are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, you two," she told Redstone and Nightfang.

Then she started flicking her tail-wand a little more forcefully than she wanted at some potatoes in the sink. They shot out of their skins so fast that they bounced off the walls and the ceiling. Hollywhisker muttered something not heard, now directing her tail-wand at a box, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes.

"Those two!" she exclaimed savagely as Samantha pulled some pots and pans out of a cabinet, and Nightfang knew she meant the twins. "I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't. They have no ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they can!"

She slammed a large copper pot down on the kitchen table and began to wave her tail-wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the tip of her tail-wand as Samantha stirred the mix a bit. Hollywhisker helped Samantha take the pan over to the stove and lit it with a poke from her tail-want.

Then Hollywhisker carried on crossly, "It's not like they haven't got brains; in fact, they DO. It's just that they're wasting them, and unless they get their act together soon, they'll be in really big trouble. I've had more owls from the Forest about them than the others put together. If they go on doing what they're going, they'll end up in front of the Criminal Use of Magic Office."

The plump ginger tabby jabbed her tail-wand at the silverware drawer, which shot open as fast as if could. Nightfang and Redstone had to leap out of the way as several knives soared out of it, flew across the kitchen, and began chopping the potatoes. Said vegetables had just been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan.

"I don't know where we went wrong with them," Hollywhisker muttered, putting down her tail-wand as she helped Samantha pull out still more pans. "It's been the same for years, one thing after another, and they won't listen to a word...OH, NOT AGAIN!"

She had picked up her tail-wand, but it had emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant rubber rat. "One of their fake tail-wands again!" she shouted angrily. "I told them not to leave them lying around!"

She grabbed her real tail-wand and turned around to find the sauce on the stove smoking.

"C'mon," Redstone muttered hurriedly to Nightfang, seizing a jawful of silverware from the open drawer and putting them in his bag. "Let's go and help Birdstorm and Clawfoot."

They left the kitchen and headed out the back door into the yard.

**...**

They had only gone a few paces when Fawnwillow's large white ferret/wolverine mix, Garfield, came bounding out of the garden, his tail held high in the air, chasing what looked like a very feathery dinosaur, but Nightfang saw right away that it was a turkey. Barely as big as a cat, its skinny feet pattered very fast as it hurried across the yard and dove headfirst into one of the bushes that lay scattered around the yard. Nightfang could hear the turkey gobbling swiftly as Garfield stuck a paw under the bush, trying to reach it.

Meanwhile, a loud crashing noise was coming from the other side of the house. The source of the uproar was shown as they entered the garden. Birdstorm and Clawfoot both had their tail-wands out, and they were making two old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other's out of the air. The twins were cheering, Leafheart was laughing, and Fawnwillow was hanging around the hedge, torn between laughter and anxiety. Birdstorm's table caught Clawfoot's with a huge bang and knocked a leg off.

There was a clatter from overhead, and they all looked up to see who it was. Sandthorn's head was poking out of a window on the second floor.

"Will you keep it down?" the curly-furred tom yowled.

"Sorry, brother," Birdstorm called, purring. "So how's that report of yours going?"

"Very badly," Sandthorn called back irritably, slamming the window shut.

Chuckling, Birdstorm and Clawfoot directed the tables safely back onto the grass, end to end. Then, with a flick of his tail-wand, Birdstorm reattached the table leg and conjured tablecloths from nowhere. Clawfoot helped out by flushing out stray turkeys from the bushes and chasing them out into the front yard.

**...**

By seven p.m., the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Samantha's excellent cooking. Said Twoleg, all nine Weasley cats, Nightfang, and Fawnwillow were settling down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. To somebody who lived on meals of gradually stale cake all greenleaf, this was paradise. Nightfang listened rather than talked a lot as he helped himself to grilled chicken, baked potatoes, and corn on the cob.

**(Author's Note: That's a dinner we would sometimes have on Sundays. And they are nothin' but mmm-mmm-mmm good!)**

At the far end of the table, Sandthorn was pompously telling his father all about his report on pots.

"I've told Mr. Crouch that I'll have it turned in by Tuesday," he was meowing pompously. "That's a bit sooner than he expected, but I like to keep organized. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time. I mean, it's very busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Trophy. We're just not getting the help we need from the Branch of Magical Games and Sports. Graytail Bagman-"

"He's a nice cat," Weaseltail replied mildly. "He helped get us such good tickets for the Trophy. I did him a tiny favor: His brother, Bumblestreak, got into a mess with a lawnmower having unnatural powers. I smoothed the whole thing over."

Sandthorn merely flicked his ear dismissively. "Oh Bagman's likable enough, of course, but how he ever got to be Head of Department...when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Wetnose Jorkins has been missing for over a moon now? Went on holiday to Louisiana and never came back?"

Weaseltail frowned. "Yes, I was asking Graytail about that. He says Wetnose got lost plenty of times before now. Though I must say, if it was someone in my section, I'd be worried about them, no questions asked."

"Oh, she's hopeless, all right," Sandthorn meowed flippantly. "I hear she's been shunted from section to section for years, much more trouble than she's worth. But even so, Bagman should be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest; she worked in our section in the past, you know. And I think he was quite fond of her, but Bagman just keeps laughing and said she probably misread the map and ended up in Laos instead of Louisiana. However..." He heaved an imposing sigh and lapped up some elderberry wine. "We've got quite enough on our paws at the Section of Worldwide Warrior Teamwork without trying to find members of other sections too. As you know, we've got another big event to unify after the World Trophy."

He cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where the Golden Trio sat. Then he raised his voice slightly, meowing, "You know which one I'm talking about, Father. The secret one."

Redstone rolled his eyes and mumbled to his friends, "He's trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably a show of thick-bottomed pots if you ask me."

In the middle of the table, Hollywhisker was arguing with Birdstorm about his earring. Said ear ornament seemed to be a recent achievement.

"It's just got a great big fang on it. Birdstorm, what do they say at the bank about it?" she was asking.

"Mom, no one at work gives a damn of how I look as long as I do my job," Birdstorm told his mother patiently. Nightfang realized that out of all the Weasley brothers, the black-patched ginger tom was the most patient.

Hollywhisker just twitched her tail lovingly and mewed, "And your fur's getting a bit too long, dear. I wish you'd let me or the Cutter give it a trim."

"I like it. And you never complain about my fur," Leafheart meowed, sitting beside Birdstorm. "You're so old-fashioned, Mom. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Silverstar's."

After that, Berrytail, Cherrynose, and Clawfoot were all talking vigorously about the upcoming World Trophy.

"It's gotta be Canada," Clawfoot was meowing thickly through a mouthful of chicken. "They crushed Brazil in the semifinals."

"Germany's got Earthclaw Krum, though," Berrytail added.

Clawfoot nodded. "Earthclaw's a decent player, but Canada's got seven," he told him shortly. "I wish America got through. That was embarrassing."

"What happened?" Nightfang asked eagerly. More than ever, he regretted his isolation from the warrior world when he was stuck on Evergreen Terrace. Discovering more of his world was much better than being stuck around the house like a kittypet.

"We lost to Belgium, three hundred and ninety to ten," Clawfoot replied gloomily. "Shocking show. And Iceland lost to India, and Mexico gave Italy a no-holds barred beatdown."

Nightfang nodded. He had been on the LionClan AirBall team ever since his first year at the Forest and owned one of the best racing wings in the world, a Thunderbolt he got from Padfoot. Flying came more naturally to the Maine Coon mix than anything else in the warrior world, and he was the Seeker of his team.

Weaseltail created some candles to light the darkening garden before they had their homemade chocolate and peanut butter cake. By the time they finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle, and foxes were now sniffing around for leftovers. Nightfang felt very well-fed and at peace with the world as he saw several turkeys waddling through the yard, gobbling and being chased by Garfield.

Redstone looked carefully up the table to see the entire family all busy talking, then he mewed very quietly to Nightfang, "So you heard from Padfoot lately?"

Fawnwillow looked around, but the twitch of her ears told them she was listening closely.

"Yeah," Nightfang replied softly. "Twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might be able to write back while I'm here."

He suddenly recalled the reason he wrote to Padfoot. He was now briefly on the verge of telling his friends about his scar hurting again and about the dream that woke him up. But he didn't want to worry them now while he himself was feeling happy and peaceful.

"Look at the time," Hollywhisker meowed suddenly, checking a watch Samantha had given her. "You should all get to be, all of you. You'll be up at dawn to get to the Trophy. And Nightfang, if you can leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Dragon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's things too. There might not be time after the World Trophy since the match went on for five days last time."

"Wow...I hope it does this time!" Nightfang purred enthusiastically.

"Well, _I_ certainly don't," Sandthorn spoke up snobbishly. "I _shudder_ to think what the state of my desk would be in if I was away from work for five days."

"Yeah sure. Scared someone might put griffin crap in it again, eh?" Berrytail asked, smiling.

Sandthorn blushed at this. "That was a sample of manure all the way from Sweden! It was nothing personal!"

Berrytail chuckled as he turned to Nightfang while they left the table. "It really WAS personal. We sent it."

_**To be continued...**_

_****_**...**

**AvatarCat12: Here we go, folks! I hope you all liked this here chapter! And even more, I hope you liked Leafpaw's warrior name and the oldest Weasleys' cat descriptions. And this is thanks to Red Infinity Dragon and WildCroconaw.**

**Again, read and review! Those who review get virtual chocolate cupcakes since yesterday was my mom's 43****rd**** birthday. Flames will NOT be allowed on either here or any other story of mine. They WILL be used to make S'Mores or heat up some kabob. But I WILL allow advice and constructive criticism, as long as it's not harsh.**

**But as for the cat versions of Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Sr., whichever breed and fur color they are entirely up to you. I've already got Winky's lemur form, but also, any warrior names for Mousepaw and any other second-year from the last book will be very welcome.**

**See ya next time!**


	6. The Portkey

**AvatarCat12: Hey there, everyone. I'm uploading a new chapter today because I want to try and upload it WITHOUT making mistakes. Which means that I want to try and get the cat names in there instead of the human names.**

**So I'm uploading this new chapter. Nothing new going on. I already updated a new Avatar Cat Book 3 episode yesterday. Feel free to review it! Sorry if I sound too imposing. Anyways, I'm trying my best to upload my stories faster, and I'll soon be uploading the latest chapter of Avatar Cat Book 3.**

**But anyways, sorry to keep you waiting. Here's the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: Like I said before, I will never own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter do. I'm mixing them together for others to enjoy.**

**Uploading Date: August 1, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

…**...**

_**The Portkey**_

Nightfang felt like he had just barely lain down to sleep in Redstone's room when he was being shaken awake by Hollywhisker. His green eyes tried to focus, and he could already see the American Shorthair's brown eyes glowing in the dark.

"Time to go, dear," she whispered as Fawnwillow came in to wake Redstone, meowing, "You too, Redstone."

"B-Bloody hell," Redstone yawned, shaking a bit as he did. "This early?"

Nightfang sat up and stretched his legs, groaning loudly. It was still dark outside, and he guessed it was around five in the morning. Redstone muttered indistinctly as his mother and Fawnwillow nudged him awake. At the foot of Nightfang's nest, he saw two uneven shapes emerging from tangles of blankets.

"It's time already?" Berrytail yawned groggily. All the toms groomed in silence, too sleepy to talk. Then, after some more stretching and yawning, all four of them headed downstairs into the kitchen.

Hollywhisker and Samantha were just stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove while Weaseltail was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large blue tickets. He looked up as the toms entered and sat up so that they could see him more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater a tad too big for him and a brown collar with a bronze tag.

"What do you think?" he asked. "We're supposed to go in disguise. So do I look like a normal kittypet, Nightfang?"

"Yeah," Nightfang yawned, smiling a bit. "Just like a kittypet."

"Where're Birdstorm and Clawfoot and S-Sandthorn?" Cherrynose asked, failing to suppress a huge yawn.

"They're Apparating," Hollywhisker meowed as Samantha heaved the large pot over to the table and ladled homemade cat food into cat bowls. "So they can have a little catnap."

Nightfang knew what Apparating meant. It meant vanishing from a spot and reappearing almost rapidly in another. But he had never known any apprentice from the Forest to do it, yet he knew that it was very difficult.

"So they're still in bed?" Berrytail asked grumpily, pulling a bowl of cat food toward him. "Why can't _we_ Apparate too?"

Hollywhisker stared at him sternly. "Because you're not old enough and you haven't passed your test yet. And where did the girls go to?"

She hurried out of the kitchen, and they heard her climbing the stairs. Nightfang turned to the remaining cats at the table and asked, "Wait, you have to pass a test to Apparate?"

"That's right," Weaseltail mewed, tucking the tickets safely into the pocket of the sweater. "The Branch of Magical Carriage had to charge a few cats days ago for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, and when it's not done right, it can lead to nasty problems. The cats I'm talking about went and spliced themselves."

Everyone around the table winced except for Nightfang. Said cat asked, "…spliced?"

Weaseltail nodded, tucking in into the cat food. "They left half of themselves behind. So they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Unplanned Magic Reversal Crew to fix them. That meant an extra bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with kittypets who saw the body parts they left behind…"

Nightfang had a sudden vision of legs and an eyeball lying discarded on the asphalt of Evergreen Terrace. Not wanting to think any more of that, he asked, "Were they okay?"

"Oh yes," Weaseltail answered sensibly. "But they got a heavy charge, and I don't think they'll try that again anytime soon. Remember, Nightfang: you don't want to ever mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of experienced warriors who don't bother with it. They just prefer wings. They're slower but safer."

"But Birdstorm, Clawfoot, and Sandthorn can do it?" Nightfang asked, agreeing that wings were better.

Berrytail nodded, grinning. "Yeah. But Clawfoot had to take the test twice since he failed the first time. He Apparated five tail-lengths south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dog trying to de-flea himself, remember?"

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," Hollywhisker's voice meowed as she came marching back into the kitchen among robust snorts.

"Sandthorn padded only a half-moon ago," Cherrynose added. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since just to prove he can." There were some pawsteps down the passageway, and Fawnwillow and Leafheart came into the kitchen, both looking drowsy.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Leafheart asked, yawning and sitting down at the table.

Her father replied, "Because we've got some walking to do."

"Walk?" Nightfang asked. "Are we walking there?"

"Oh no, that's far away," Weaseltail meowed, smiling. "We only need to walk for a little bit. It's just that it's difficult for a large number of warrior cats to meet without attracting the attention of Twolegs. We have to be careful about how we travel, and on a huge occasion like the AirBall World Trophy..."

"Cherrynose!" Hollywhisker suddenly snapped sharply, and they all jumped.

"What?" said ginger tom asked in an innocent tone that duped no one.

"What is that in your bag?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't you tell a lie!" Hollywhisker flicked her tail-wand at Cherrynose's bag and yowled, _"Accio!"_

Several small colored objects zoomed out of his bag, and Cherrynose made a grab for them but missed. In the meantime, the objects sped right into Hollywhisker's jaws.

Nightfang saw that those were more Big-Tongue Bonbons. Hollywhisker seemed to think so too, for she growled furiously, "We told you to destroy them! Empty your bags, both of you!"

It was a very unpleasant scene. The twins had obviously been trying to traffic as many bonbons out of the house as possible. But it was thanks to her Calling Charm that Hollywhisker found them all.

"_Accio! Accio! Accio!"_ she yowled, and bonbons zoomed from all sorts of dodgy places. And this included under the grandfather clock in the kitchen and somewhere in the kitchen sink.

"We spent six moons making those!" Berrytail yowled at his mother as she threw the bonbons away.

"Oh, that's a fine way to spend six moons!" she shrieked back. "It's no wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

In general, the atmosphere was not very nice when they left the house. Hollywhisker was still miffed as she licked her mate on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins. They had each pulled their bags onto their backs and stalked out without saying a word to her.

"Have a good time," Hollywhisker meowed to the departing cats. "And _behave yourselves_!" she called after the twins, but they did not look back or answer. To Weaseltail, she meowed, "I'll send Birdstorm, Clawfoot, and Sandthorn along around sunhigh. Have a good time."

Weaseltail nodded as he, Nightfang, Fawnwillow, and their remaining kits set off across the dark yard after the twins.

The Alaskan air was quite chilly at night, and the moon was still out. Only a dull greenish color along the horizon to their right showed that dawn was drawing near. Nightfang, who had just been thinking about hundreds of warrior cats speeding toward the World Trophy, sped up to walk alongside Weaseltail.

"How does everyone get there without Twolegs noticing?" he asked.

"It's been a huge logistic problem," Weaseltail sighed. "The trouble is, about a hundred thousand warriors arrive at the World Trophy, and we just haven't got a magical site big enough to lodge them all. There are places Twolegs can't penetrate, but envision trying to put a hundred thousand cats into Dragon Alley or platform seven and a half. So we had to find a nice deserted grassland on Lemesurier Island and set up as many anti-Twoleg defenses as possible. The Government's been working on it for moons. First, we have to rotate the arrivals. Cats with cheaper tickets have to arrive just a half-moon early. A limited number use Twoleg transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains. Remember, warriors big and small are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, away from any Twolegs. I believe there's a handy woodland they're using as the Apparition point. For those who don't want to or can't Apparate, we use Portkeys."

Nightfang stared. "Portkeys?"

Weaseltail nodded. "Yes. They're objects used to transport warriors from one spot to another at a preset time. You can do large groups at a time if you want. There are two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Alaska, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stout Hill, so that's where we're headed."

He flicked his tail ahead of them, where a large black mass rose beyond the airport of the village of Gustavus.

"What sort of objects can Portkeys be?" Nightfang asked curiously.

"Anything," Weaseltail replied. "Bland things, obviously, so Twolegs don't pick them up and play with them. Stuff they'll just think is litter...like shoes."

They trudged down the dark dank path towards the airport, the silence broken only by their pawsteps over leaves. The sky lightened slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness paling to deepest blue. Nightfang's paws were freezing while Weaseltail kept checking the sky.

They didn't have any breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stout Hill, tripping often in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick tufts of grass. Each breath Nightfang took was sharp in his chest, and his legs were starting to stiffen when, at last, his paws touched level ground.

"Where exactly are we going?" Nightfang asked Redstone.

The red-ginger tom shrugged. "I have no idea." Towards Weaseltail, who was still climbing up the hill, he called, "Hey Dad! Where exactly are we going?"

"Haven't got a clue! Keep up!" Weaseltail finally fell to his side, panting. "Well, we've made good time. We've got ten minutes before we move on."

The other cats made it to the top of the hill, but it left them tired. Fawnwillow came over the crest of the hill last, panting as she followed the stronger shorthairs.

Weaseltail squinted around at the ground, sniffing seldom. "Now all we need is the Portkey. It won't be a big one."

They spread out, searching. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a yowl tore through the still air.

"Over here, Weaseltail, old chum! We got it!"

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop. They were resting up in a tall birch tree, appearing to be stretching their legs out.

"Palefur!" Weaseltail called, smiling as he strode over to the cat who yowled. The rest of the cats with him followed him over to the meeting spot.

Weaseltail was nodding to a pale brown California Spangled Cat who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his paw. He appeared to be a jovial cat. To the others, Weaseltail mewed, "This is Palefur Diggory, everyone. He works for the Branch for the Adjustment and Control of Other Animals. And I'm sure you know his son Oakheart?"

Oakheart Diggory leapt out of the tree, meowing a friendly greeting to Weaseltail. He was a tall and very handsome golden tabby tom of around seventeen years of age. He was Captain _and_ Seeker of the BadgerClan AirBall team at the Forest.

"Hey there," Oakheart purred, looking around at them all.

Everybody greeted him back except for the twins, who merely nodded coolly. They had never quite forgiven the golden tabby for beating their team in the first AirBall match of last year.

"Long walk you had, Weaseltail?" Palefur asked.

"Not too bad," Weaseltail replied. "We live just on the other side of the airport. And besides the cold, there's nothing to worry about. You?"

Palefur nodded. "Had to get up at two in the morning, didn't we, son? I'll be glad when he passes his Apparition test. Still, not complaining here! I wouldn't miss this event even for a sack of fifty Galleons! And the tickets cost about that, let me tell you. Not to brag or anything, but I think we made it easily." He peered happily around at the three Weasley tomcats, Nightfang, Fawnwillow, and Leafheart. "All these your kits?"

Weaseltail shook his head. "Only the red-furred cats are mine. The light brown tabby she-cat is Fawnwillow Granger, a friend of my sons, and the black tom is Nightfang Potter, another friend of his..."

But Palefur's eyes widened. "Great StarClan's kits. Nightfang Potter? THE Nightfang Potter?"

"Erm...yes sir," Nightfang mewed. He was used to cats looking curiously at him when they met him and the way their eyes moved at once to the white lightning scar on his forehead. But it always made him feel uncomfortable, for he didn't like his fame.

"Okaheart's talked about you," Palefur purred with pride. "He told us all about playing against you last year. After that, I said to him, 'Oakheart, this will be something to tell your grandkits! You defeated Nightfang Potter!'"

Nightfang didn't know how to reply to this, so he stayed silent. The twins were both scowling again, furious at what Palefur was saying; it was like he was spouting blasphemy.

Oakheart looked embarrassed as he muttered, "Dad, he fell off his wings. I already told you, it was just an accident."

Palefur cheered amiably, clapping his son on the shoulder, "Yes, but _you_ didn't fall off, did you? Always modest, our son. Always the nobleman. But the best cat won. I'm sure Nightfang can say the same, wouldn't you? One falls off, one stays on! You don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

The Weasley twins were starting to growl now.

"Must be nearly time," Weaseltail mewed quickly, looking up to the sky again. "You know if we're waiting for any more, Palefur?"

"No. The Lovegoods have been there for a quarter-moon already, and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," Palefur replied. "There aren't any more in this area?"

Weaseltail shook his head. "Not that I know of. It's a minute away. We better get ready." He looked around at Nightfang and Fawnwillow as he meowed, "Just touch the Portkey. A claw will do."

With difficulty, thanks to their bulky bags, the nine cats crowded around the old boot held out by Palefur. They all stood there in a tight circle as a chill breeze swept over the summit.

Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to Nightfang how weird this would look if a Twoleg walked up here now: Nine cats, two fully-grown, holding this old boot in the semidarkness and waiting...

"Three..." Weaseltail muttered, looking up at the sky. "Two...one...now!"

Suddenly, it happened right away. Nightfang felt like a hook in his belly had been jerked forth strongly. His paws left the ground, and he felt his friends on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his as they yowled. They were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his claw was stuck to the boot as if it was pulling him magnetically onward and then.

His shoulder hit the ground as Redstone landed on his paws awkwardly and staggered a bit. Soon enough, the Portkey hit the ground near their heads with a heavy thud. Nightfang looked up in time to see Weaseltail, Palefur, and Oakheart looking like they were running in the air to them. Everybody else was on the ground, groaning as they picked themselves up.

"Seven past five from Stout Hill," a voice meowed.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: NOW we're getting' somewhere, folks! This next chapter will bring about some old friends and new friends. Also, not only will there be plain cats, but there will also be any kind of wild cat from all around the world. That INCLUDES lions, tigers, and leopards! Won't say "oh my"; there's no bears in that sentence just now!**

**You all know what I say, everyone. Read and review! Anyone who reviews will get either a virtual Oakheart plush doll or a chance to describe the newest cat or cats coming up on the nest chapter. Flames will never be allowed on here, for they'll be used to make the popcorn you make over the fire. Constructive criticism and advice are welcome, but as long as it's not harsh, it's cool.**

**And by the way, not to be mean or anything, but can anyone PM me if I make a mistake on here? I know I already have a few friends who can lend a hand, but better safe than sorry.**

**See ya next time!**


	7. Graytail And Crouchfoot

**AvatarCat12: Hey, everyone! I don't have that much to do today except to get a haircut. But anyways, I decided to just upload another Nightfang Potter chapter just for the heck of it. And I hope I didn't put in any mistakes.**

**Anyways, any of you Warrior Cat fans heard about the Survivor Dogs series, right? Well, I can't wait for it to come out! But it's sure gonna be different reading an Erin Hunter book written by a different team of Erin Hunters.**

**Okay, that's enough ranting. Let's get this chapter moving!**

**Disclaimer: I do not and will not own Harry Potter and Warrior Cats. All credit belongs to J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter. I'm just blending them together to let the other people out there enjoy.**

**Uploading Date: August 4, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Graytail And Crouchfoot**_

Nightfang wearily got up to his paws and looked around. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moorland at the foot of a mountain. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy warrior cats, one of whom was having a large gold watch around his neck, the other a thick roll of scroll and a quill. Both of them looked like kittypets, though very clumsily: The cat with the watch wore a collar made of snakeskin; his colleague had boots made of fur.

"Morning, Woodleap," Weaseltail greeted the boot-furred black tabby.

He picked up the boot and handed it to the black tabby tom, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him. Among those items, Nightfang saw an old newspaper, an empty soda can, and a punctured basketball.

"Hello there," Woodleap yawned wearily. "Not on duty? It's all right for some; we've been here all night. You'd better get out of the way. We've got a big party coming in from Mt. Rushmore at 5:15. Hang on, I'll find your campsite. Hmmm, Weasley...Weasley..."

He consulted his parchment list and finally mewed, "About a short walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Swanson. Diggory...second field...ask for Mr. Brown."

Weaseltail mewed his thanks and beckoned everyone to follow him. Then all seven cats set off across the deserted moor, unable to see through the mist. Around them, moose were looking up from their morning grazing while birds sang over their heads.

After twenty minutes, a small stone lodge next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Nightfang could just see the ghostly shapes of thousands of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark forest in the mountains on the horizon. They said good-bye to the Diggorys and arrived at the lodge door. A tabby cat was sitting in the doorway, looking at the tents in a weird way. Nightfang knew instantly that this was the only true kittypet for several lands. When he heard their pawsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Morning!" Weaseltail meowed brightly.

"Morning," the kittypet replied.

"Are you Mr. Swanson?"

Mr. Swanson nodded. "Yep. And who're you?"

"Weasley. Weaseltail Weasley. Do you have two tents, reserved a few days ago?"

"Yep," Mr. Swanson replied, consulting a list nailed to the door. "You've got a space up by the forest there. Just one night?"

Weaseltail nodded. "That's right."

Mr. Swanson then meowed, "So you're paying?"

"Oh...yes I will," Weaseltail replied, running from the lodge and beckoning Nightfang to follow him. "Help me out here, Nightfang," he muttered, pulling a wad of Twoleg money from his cape and starting to pull a few bills out. "This one's a...a ten, is it? Ah yes, I see the little number now. So is this a five?"

"Twenty," Nightfang corrected him lowly, uneasily aware of Mr. Swanson watching them.

The ginger tom nodded. "Ah...I see it now. But about these pieces of paper..."

As Weaseltail returned with the correct notes, Mr. Swanson asked, "You foreign?"

"Foreign?" Weaseltail repeated, looking puzzled.

"You're not the first cat who's had any trouble with money," Mr. Swanson went on, inspecting the American Shorthair closely. "I had two try to pay me with gold coins the size of dollar coins ten minutes ago."

Weaseltail pretended to look quite interested, but he seemed to fail to do so. Mr. Swanson began to dig around in a box for some change.

"Never been this crowded," he muttered suddenly, looking out to the misty field again. "Loads of pre-bookings on one island. Cats usually never just turn up so suddenly here."

"Is that right?" Weaseltail asked, his tail held out for change.

But Mr. Swanson didn't give it to him just yet. Instead, he meowed, "Yep. Cats from all over the globe. Loads of foreigners. Hell, not just any foreigners. Weirdos. There's even a mountain lion walking 'round in a kilt-made cape."

Weaseltail shuffled his forepaws anxiously. "Shouldn't he?"

"It's like some sort of...rally," Mr. Swanson went on. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party or a reunion."

At that moment, a ginger-pelted warrior wearing mittens on his paws appeared out of thin air next to the lodge door. Quickly, he flicked his tail-wand at Mr. Swanson and yowled sharply, _"Obliviate!"_

Instantly, the kittypet's eyes slid out of focus, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Nightfang recognized this as one of the signs of a cat who had his memory altered. He recalled a thing like that happening to an incompetent mentor named Gloryhound Lockhart.

"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Swanson meowed mildly to Weaseltail. "And here is your change, sir."

"Thanks very much," Weaseltail meowed.

The ginger tom with mittens escorted them toward the gate to the site. He looked exhausted; his paws were wobbly, and his eyes looked a bit bloodshot. Once out of earshot of Mr. Swanson, he muttered to Weaseltail, "I've been having a lot of trouble with him. He always needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Graytail's not helping. He's always trotting about talking about Budgers and Qualifies at the top of his lungs. He seems to not a care about anti-Twoleg security! I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Weaseltail."

Then he Disapparated.

As the tom left, Leafheart mewed, looking surprised, "I thought Graytail was Head of Magical Games and Sports? He shouldn't talk about Budgers near kittypets, right?"

"Right," Weaseltail purred as he smiled, leading them through the gates into the campsite. "But he's always been a bit...lax, we will say, about security. You couldn't wish for a more animated head of the sporting department, though. He played AirBall for America himself, you know. And he was the best Thrasher the Baltimore Bats ever had."

They trekked up the misty meadow between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had tried to make them as Twoleg-like as possible, but they had slipped up by adding chimneys or windows. However, all over the place were tents so obviously magical that Nightfang was hardly surprised that Mr. Swanson was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an excessive tent of striped silk like a miniature palace, several live peacocks tethered at the entrance.

A little farther on, they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets. A short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

Weaseltail purred. "Always the same. We can't resist showing off when we gather. Oh, here we are! This is our spot."

They had just reached the very edge of the woodland at the top of the grassland. And there was an empty space, with a small sign nailed into the ground that read WEEZLY. Nightfang smirked at this, but he kept it hidden.

"Couldn't have a better spot, could we?" Weaseltail purred happily. "The grassland is just on the other side of the wood there. We're as close as we could be." He hoisted his bag down from his broad shoulders. "Here we go. No magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on a Twoleg tourist island. We'll be putting these tents up manually! Shouldn't be too difficult; Twolegs do it all the time! Nightfang, where should we start?"

Nightfang had never been camping in his life; the Dursley cats had never ever taken him on any vacation, leaving him with Fig, an old neighbor cat. But he had seen from a favorite spot on the roof where Twolegs were camping in the woods behind Daniel's house. So he and Fawnwillow worked on where most of the poles and pegs went, and though Weaseltail was a bit more of a deterrent than help, for he got overexcited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-room tents.

All of them stood back to admire their work. No Twoleg looking at these tents would guess they belonged to warriors or even cats, but the trouble was...once Birdstorm, Clawfoot, and Sandthorn arrived, there would be ten cats. Fawnwillow seemed to have spotted this problem too, for she and Nightfang shared a puzzled look as Weaseltail entered the first tent.

"We'll be a bit cramped," he called. "But I think we'll all fit in well. Come and have a look."

So Nightfang padded through the tent flap and, when he saw the inside, felt his jaw drop. He had just walked into what looked like a typical three room apartment, complete with a bathroom and a kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished sort of like Fig's house; there were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of ferrets. But all in all, Nightfang was amazed and pleased at this and had three words to say about it.

"I LOVE magic."

"Well, it's not for long," Weaseltail meowed, peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "I borrowed this tent from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor cat; he's got back pain." He picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it, meowing, "We'll need some water."

"There's a stream marked on this map the Muggle gave us," Redstone meowed, having followed Nightfang inside the tent and looking blasé about its amazing inner size. "It's on the other side of the grassland."

Weaseltail handed over a pot and a couple of pans. "Well, can you, Nightfang, and Fawnwillow go and get us some water then, please? The rest of us will get some wood for a fire."

Redstone protested, "But we got an oven! Why can't we just-"

"Anti-Twoleg security!" his father insisted, his blue eyes shining with zeal. "When Twolegs camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

After that, they took a quick tour of the she-cats' tent, which was a little smaller than the toms', though without the smell of ferrets. Then the Golden Trio set off across the campsite with the pot and pans.

Now, with the sun rising and the mist lifting, they could see the metropolis of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Nightfang how many warrior cats there must be in the world; he had never really thought much about those cats in other countries.

Their fellow campers were now starting to wake up, stretching and yawning. The first to stir were families with small kits; Nightfang had never seen warriors this young before. A tiny black-&-white kit no older than two was crouching outside a large pyramid-like tent, holding a long tail-wand and poking at a worm in the grass, which swelled slowly to the size of a hot dog. As they drew level with him, his tabby mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"Jaykit! How many times do I have to tell you?" the queen scolded. "You don't touch Daddy's tail-wand...mrrow!"

She had stepped on the worm, which burst all over her pelt. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little kit's yells of "You bust wormy! You bust wormy!"

A short way away, they saw two little she-kits barely older than Jaykit, riding toy wings that rose only high enough for their paws to skim the dewy grass. A black Government warrior had just seen them; as he hurried past the Golden Trio, he muttered anxiously, "They're flying in broad daylight! I suppose the parents are having a catnap?"

Here and there, adult warriors were padding out of their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with secret looks around them, fabricated fires with their tail-wands; others were rubbing sticks together with doubtful looks on their faces as if they were sure this couldn't work. And just a farther bit away, near a rock, Nightfang saw that it wasn't just small cats here.

Three huge Chinese tigers sat in serious conversation, wearing long white capes and chowing on what looked like a deer, while a group of middle-aged British cougars sat talking happily under a flag stretched between their tents that read: THE CHESHIRE WARRIORS' INSTITUTE. As he watched on in awe, Nightfang caught nicks of words in strange new languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn't understand a word they said, the tone of every single voice was excited. He even gaped on in awe as a huge African lion and two lionesses dragged down a moose before chowing down.

"Uh...is it just my eyes, or did everything go red?" Redstone asked, looking around.

It wasn't just his eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of maple leaves, so that it looked like small oddly shaped hills had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

"Nightfang! Redstone! Fawnwillow! Hey there!"

It was Sandfur, a sand-furred tabby Manx and their fellow LionClan fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own maple leaf-covered tent with a sand-furred Manx she-cat who had to be his mother and his best friend, Ashfoot Thomas, a dark gray American Shorthair who was also from LionClan.

"Like the decorations?" Sandfur asked, grinning. "The Government's not too happy right at the moment."

"Why shouldn't we show half our colors?" his mother asked, her Irish accent thick. "We are Irish Manx, but me mate is a Canadian one, so we are celebrating his colors. You should see what the German cats got hanging all over their tents. So are you supporting Canada?" she added, eyeing the Golden Trio beadily.

When they assured her that they were indeed supporting Canada, they set off again. But when they were away, Redstone muttered, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by them."

"I wonder what the Germans got hanging all over their tents?" Fawnwillow wondered.

"Well, let's go and have a look then," Nightfang mewed, flicking his tail to a large patch of tents up ahead. There, the German flag (black, red, and yellow) was fluttering in the warming breeze.

The tents here were not decorated with plant or animal life, but every one of them had the same poster attached to it. It was a poster of the very gruff face of a dark tabby tom with heavy black stripes and yellow eyes. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and glare.

"Earthclaw," Redstone mewled quietly.

"Huh?" Fawnwillow asked.

Redstone turned to her. "It's Earthclaw Krum! The German Seeker!"

Fawnwillow looked around at the many pictures of Earthclaw blinking and scowling. "He looks really grouchy, doesn't he?"

"Really grouchy?" Redstone lifted his eyes to the sky. "Who cares about that? He's incredible! And really young too! Only just eighteen or something, but he's a genius! You wait until tonight, you'll see!"

There was already a small line for the tap in the corner of the field; some cats were helping each other scoop it up into buckets while others lapped it up greedily. The Golden Trio joined it, right behind a pair of cats who were having a hushed argument. One of them was an old brown tom who was wearing a long florid nightdress. The other was clearly a Government warrior; he was holding up a black cat sweater and almost crying with frustration.

"Just put it on, Chinstripe!" the warrior was mewling. "You can't walk around like that! The kittypet at the gate's already suspicious!"

"I got this in a Twoleg shop," the old brown tom mewed stubbornly. "Twolegs wear them."

The other brown tom brandished the sweater around. "The females wear them, not the males. The toms wear this."

The first brown tom meowed in indignation, "I'm not putting it on. I like to have a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thank you very much."

Fawnwillow was giggling so hard that she had to step out of line and only came back when old Chinstripe had collected his water and moved off. Walking more slowly due to the weight of the water, they made their way back slowly through the campsite. Frequently, they saw a few more familiar faces: other Forest cats with their families. Treebranch Wood, the former captain of the LionClan AirBall team, was a light brown tabby Norwegian Forest Cat; he nudged the Golden Trio over to his parents' tent to introduce Nightfang and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Alberta United reserve team.

Next, they were greeted by a familiar Exotic Shorthair named Birchfrost MacMillan, a fourth year BadgerClan cat. And a little farther on, they saw Rainleaf Chang, a very pretty colorpoint white she-cat who was the RavenClan AirBall Seeker. The colorpoint Dragon Li mix waved and smiled at Nightfang, who stumbled a bit as he waved back. To stop Redstone from smirking at him, the black cat hurriedly pointed out a large group of cats he had never seen before.

"Who are they?" he asked. "Do they go to the Forest?"

"They're probably from some foreign school," Redstone replied. "I know there are others foreign schools. Never met any foreign cat, though. Birdstorm had a pen pal at a school in South Africa (this was years ago), and he wanted to go on an exchange trip, but our parents couldn't afford it. His pen pal got upset when he said he couldn't come and sent him a cursed collar. It made the fur on his neck fall out."

Nightfang purred at this, but he didn't voice the wonder he felt at hearing all about other warrior schools. He supposed, now that he saw envoys of so many nations in the campsite, that he had been very mouse-brained never to realize that the Forest couldn't be the only school. He glanced at Fawnwillow, who looked totally unsurprised by this. No doubt she came across the news of other warrior schools in some book or other.

**...**

When the Golden Trio made it back to their tents, Cherrynose greeted them, "Hey guys. Where'd you three go off to?"

"We saw a few cats," Redstone replied, setting the water down. "So you didn't get that campfire started yet?"

"Dad's having a LOT of fun with the matches," Berrytail purred.

The younger cats turned to see what Berrytail was meowing about. Weaseltail was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't because he didn't want to try. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked like he was having a lot of fun. At one point, he let out a squeal as he managed to light a match and quickly dropped it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley. I'll help you out," Fawnwillow mewed kindly. Then she took the box from him and began showing him how to do it properly.

At last they got the fire lit, though it was another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, though. Their tent seemed to be pitched beside a kind of main road to the field, and Government cats kept hurrying on it, greeting Weaseltail in a friendly way as they passed. Weaseltail kept up a running commentary mainly for Nightfang's and Fawnwillow's benefit; his own kits knew too much about the Government to be interested.

"That was Sloetail Mockridge, Head of the Monkey Contact Office. And here's Logpelt Wimple; he's with the Board on Trial Charms. He's had the rhino horn for a while now. Hello, Salmonfin! This is Salmonfin Peasegood; he's an Obliviator, a member of the Unplanned Magic Reverse Crew. And that's Bode and Croaker; they're Unspeakables."

"They're what now?"

Weaseltail replied, "From the Section of Secrecies. Top secret. I have no idea what they get up to there."

At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking bacon and eggs when they got some company. Birdstorm, Clawfoot, and Sandthorn came walking out of the woods toward them, each carrying a piece of prey in their mouths.

"Just Apparated, Father," Sandthorn meowed loudly. "Ah, excellent...breakfast!"

They were halfway through their food when Weaseltail leapt up to his paws. He was grinning at a new cat striding toward them.

"Here's the cat of the moment! Graytail!"

Graytail Bagman was easily the most visible cat Nightfang had seen so. He was wearing a long AirBall cape in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. A large picture of a brown bat was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a strongly built cat fading a bit; the cape was covering his round belly, so he surely did not look like when he had played AirBall for America. His face was scarred (probably broken by a stray Budger), but his round blue eyes, thick gray fur with the tabby tail, and rosy face made him look like a very overgrown kit.

"Ahoy!" Graytail called happily. He was walking like he had springs attached to his paws and plainly in a state of wild excitement. When he reached Weaseltail, he purred, "Weaseltail, old chap. What a day, eh? What a day! Could we have more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming...and hardly a mistake in the provisions! Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of fatigued Government cats ran past, pointing at the distant evidence of a magical fire sending violet sparks high into the air. Quickly, Sandthorn rose up to his paws, bowing his head in an arrogant way. Apparently his displeasure of how Graytail ran his section did not stop him from wanting to make a good impression.

"Hello back," Weaseltail purred to Graytail. "This is my third oldest son Sandthorn. He had just started working at the Government. And this is Berrytail...sorry, Cherrynose... _that's_ Berrytail. And these are Birdstorm, Clawfoot, Redstone, my daughter Leafheart, and Redstone's friends, Fawnwillow Granger and Nightfang Potter."

Graytail did the smallest of double takes when he heard Nightfang's name, and his eyes did the familiar flick upward to the scar on his forehead. But Nightfang was relieved that he did not hover over him like a bird.

Weaseltail went on, "Everyone, this is Graytail Bagman, you know who he is. It's thanks to him that we've got such good tickets."

Graytail beamed and waved his tail as if to say it was nothing. He shook what seemed to be lots of gold in the pockets of his cape. "Fancy a flutter on the match, Weaseltail? I've already got Rockfire Pontner betting me Germany will score first. I offered him some nice odds, considering Canada's front three are the strongest I've seen in years! And little Mousetail Timms put up half shares in her Twoleg's gator farm on a match lasting a quarter-moon."

"Oh...all right then," Weaseltail meowed. "How about...a Galleon for if Canada wins?"

"A Galleon?" Graytail looked slightly disappointed, but he recovered himself. "Very well, very well. Any other takers want to bet?"

Weaseltail shook his head. "They're a bit young to be gambling. Hollywhisker wouldn't like-"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," Berrytail meowed as he and his twin brother quickly pooled all their money. "To bet that Canada wins...but Earthclaw gets the Pinch. And we'll throw in a fake tail-wand."

"Don't show Mr. Bagman drivel like that," Sandthorn hissed.

But Graytail didn't seem to think like that at all. In contrast, his youthful face shone with interest as he took it from Berrytail, and when the tail-wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber mouse, Graytail purred with laughter. Wiping a tear from his eye, the Siberian mix purred, "Very excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! Five Galleons for that!"

Sandthorn froze in an attitude of shocked dissatisfaction. To top that off, he snorted and turned away with his nose in the air like a pompous poodle.

"Boys," Weaseltail muttered under his breath. "I don't want you betting like that. That's all your savings! What will your mother say?"

"Don't be such a party pooper, Weaseltail!" Graytail boomed, fidgeting excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! So you two think Canada will win but Earthclaw catches the Pinch? No way, you two! No way! I'll give you excellent odds on that. We'll add five Galleons for the funny tail-wand then!"

Weaseltail looked on feebly as Graytail whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names. Cherrynose meowed something before taking the slip of scroll they were given and tucking it away into a cape pocket. With that done, Graytail turned cheerfully back to Weaseltail.

Sighing deeply, he meowed, "Wish I could get a drink, but I can't for now. I'm keeping an eye out for Crouchfoot Crouch. My German opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't even understand a word he's saying! Crouchfoot can sort it out. Why, he even speaks a hundred and fifty animal languages."

"Mr. Crouch?" Sandthorn quickly asked, suddenly deserting his stiff disapproval and writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Dolphin and kangaroo and elephant..."

"Anyone can speak elephant," Berrytail retorted dismissively. "All you gotta do is lift your nose and grunt. If that doesn't work, flick your ears."

Sandthorn threw at his brother a severe look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the pot back to the boil.

"Any news of Wetnose Jorkins yet?" Weaseltail asked as Graytail settled himself down on the grass beside them.

"Not a word," Graytail replied comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor Wetnose...memory like a goldfish and no sense of direction. Lost, I must say. Why, she'll wander back into the office in October, thinking it's still July!"

As Sandthorn passed the gray tom a bowl of cream, Weaseltail suggested tentatively, "You don't think it might be time to look for her?"

Graytail's round blue eyes widened innocently. "Crouchfoot keeps saying that, but we can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh...speak of the devil! Crouchfoot!"

A tom had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with the excitable Graytail. Crouchfoot Crouch was a stiff elderly brown tabby tomcat, wearing an impeccably crisp cat sweater-like suit and tie. Despite being a Devon Rex, his ears were small for his breed, and his claws looked highly polished. Nightfang now saw why Sandthorn idolized him; the curly-furred tom believed in strictly following rules, and Crouchfoot had complied with the rule about acting like a kittypet so thoroughly that he could have passed for being a therapist cat. Nightfang doubted even Bristle would see him for what he really was.

"Take a load off your paws and have a seat, Crouchfoot!" Graytail purred brightly, sweeping his tail over the grass.

"No thank you," Crouchfoot grumbled, impatience in his British voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere, Graytail. The Germans insist we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

Graytail answered, "Oh is that what they're after? I thought that guy was asking to borrow a pair of glasses. Bit of a strong accent he had."

"Mr. Crouch, sir!" Sandthorn piped up breathlessly, sinking low until his belly was on the grass like a dog. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Crouchfoot looked at the curly-furred American Shorthair in mild surprise. "Oh...well...yes, I would like one. Thank you, Weatherly."

The Weasley twins choked and snorted as their mouths were full of bacon. Sandthorn, whose ears were flattened when he heard that, busied himself with the pot.

"Oh and I've wanted a word with you too, Weaseltail," Crouchfoot went on, his sharp amber eyes falling upon the ginger tom. "Bashir's on the warpath. He wants to have a word you about your restriction on flying carpets."

Weaseltail sighed. "I sent him an owl about that the past quarter-moon. If I've told him once, I've told him loads of times: Carpets are defined as a kittypet item by the Registry of Forbidden Charmable Objects, but that stubborn badger won't listen!"

Crouchfoot, accepting some tea, replied, "I doubt it. He's desperate to trade here."

"You don't think they'll replace wings in America?" Graytail asked.

"Bashir thinks there's a role for a family vehicle," Crouchfoot meowed. "Why, I remember my grandfather's Twoleg owner having an Axminster that could seat twelve cats. But that was just before flying carpets were banned, of course." He spoke like he wanted to remind everyone that all his ancestors had abided strictly to every law.

Graytail asked brightly, "So you've been kept busy, eh, Crouchfoot?"

The Devon Rex nodded. "Fairly. Organizing Portkeys across six different continents is no easy feat."

"So you'll both be glad when this is over?" Weaseltail piped up.

"Glad!" Graytail looked shocked. "I don't know when I've had more fun! But it's not like we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh? Plenty left to organize?"

"We agreed not to make the statement until all the details-" Crouchfoot began, not looking amused.

But the gray tom waved the word away like it was a fly. "Oh details shmetails! They've signed and agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything the kids here will know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at the Forest-"

But Crouchfoot sharply cut Graytail's remarks short, "We need to meet the Germans, you know. I thank you for the tea, Weatherly."

He pushed his un-drunk cup of tea back at Sandthorn and waited for Graytail to get to his paws. The Siberian mix struggled to his paws, lapping up the last of his cream as the gold in his cape clinked merrily.

"See you all later!" he meowed. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me; I'll be commentating!"

As he waved his tail about, Crouchfoot merely nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

Right away, Berrytail asked, "What's going on at the Forest, Dad? What were they meowing about?"

"You'll find out soon," his father replied, smiling.

"It's classified information until the Government decides to release it," Sandthorn sniffed stiffly. "Mr. Crouch is right not to reveal it."

"Oh shut up, Weatherly," Berrytail retorted.

**(Author's Note: Try saying "****Sandthorn sniffed stiffly" three times fast!)**

**...**

A sense of excitement rose like an intense storm over the campsite as sunhigh went on. By the time sunset came, the greenleaf air itself seemed to shake with eagerness, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of warrior cats, the last remnants of presence vanished: the Government seemed to have given up and stopped fighting the blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Sellers were Apparating every few seconds, pulling carts full of surprising products. There were luminous badges (red-&-white for Canada and black, red, and yellow for Germany) squealing the names of players, pointed red hats festooned with dancing maple leaves, German scarves decked with grizzly bears that roared, and flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved. There were miniscule models of Thunderbolts that really flew and collectible figurines of famous players, which strolled across cats' paw pads and were grooming themselves.

"Been saving my allowance all greenleaf for this," Redstone told Nightfang as the Golden Trio ambled through the sellers, buying knick-knacks. Although Redstone bought a dancing maple hat and a large red badge, he also bought a small figure of Earthclaw, the German Seeker. The tiny tabby stalked backward and forward over Redstone's paw, scowling up at the red badge hanging above him.

"Wow, look at these!" Nightfang yelped, hurrying over to a cart piled with what looked like bronze binoculars. But they were covered with lots of strange knobs and dials.

"Omni-binoculars," the seller told him eagerly. "You can replay action or slow everything down, and they flash up a play-by-play rundown if you need it. Ten Galleons each."

Redstone gazed at said items and pawed at his maple hat. "Hmmm...wish I didn't buy this now."

Nightfang frowned slightly at the ginger tom and felt bad for him. So he turned to the seller and meowed firmly, "Three each."

"No, it's okay. You don't have to," Redstone muttered, blushing. He was always sensitive about the fact that Nightfang, who had inherited a small fortune from his mother and father, had much more money than he did.

"You won't get anything for me for Christmas," the British Shorthair mix told him, buying three Omni-binoculars and thrusting them into his friends' bags. "For about ten years, anyways."

Redstone mewed, smiling a bit, "Fair enough. Thanks, buddy."

"Yeah, thanks!" Fawnwillow added, a big smile on her face. "And I'll get us some programs. Have a look!"

Their money bags much lighter, they went back to the tents. Birdstorm, Clawfoot, and Leafheart were wearing red badges too, and Weaseltail was holding a Canadian hat. But the twins did not buy any souvenirs since they had given Graytail all their gold.

And then a deep booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and red, yellow, black, and white lanterns glowed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. Nightfang kneaded his paws on the grass, knowing what it meant from watching baseball matched on TV.

"It's time!" Weaseltail yelped, looking as excited as the others. "Come on, kids! Let's go!"

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: Glad this chapter's done and over with! And I'm also working hard on my World Of Warcraft characters, especially my level 50 troll druid named Grozzakal. One more thing: if you'd like, I can make a story on FanFiction about my level 85 night elf druid named Dardiirn.**

**Remember, folks: Feel free to read and review if you want. Those who do will get a virtual plush doll of either Graytail or Crouchfoot. Flames will not be allowed here, but advice and constructive criticism are welcome anytime.**

**See ya next time!**


	8. The World AirBall Trophy

**AvatarCat12: Hey there, everyone, and welcome back to the Nightfang series! Again, sorry if I took so long in updating this here FanFic. I've been busy with some stuff...and getting a bit distracted along the way. I know I keep saying this, but I gotta stop getting distracted!**

**Anyways, about Avatar Cat: The Last AirClan Cat, I've already posted up both parts for Day Of Dark Sun. And as for my other stories, I'm trying to work hard on them. One more thing: I'm still trying to look for a job, but they haven't replied back yet. So I'm trying to get some FanFiction stories done to keep myself occupied.**

**Sorry about the rant. Here's the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: Remember, folks. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter are the owners of Harry Potter and Warrior Cats. Not me. I'm just blending them together for all of you to enjoy.**

**Uploading Date: August 19, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The World AirBall Trophy**_

Holding on to their purchases with Weaseltail in the lead, they all hurried into the boreal forest, following the lantern trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of big and small cats moving around them, meows, roars, and laughter along with singing. The air of heated exhilaration was highly catching; Nightfang couldn't stop himself from smiling. They walked through the forest for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until they emerged on the other side and arrived in the shadow of a huge sports ground. Though Nightfang could see only a part of the vast gold walls encircling the field, he could tell that ten giant cathedrals could fit securely inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," Weaseltail meowed, spotting the awestruck look on his face. "The Government task forces of five hundred have been working on it all year. There's some Twoleg Warding Charms on every tree. Every time Twolegs anywhere near here all year, they always remembered appointments and had to run off...amazing creatures, they are," he added fondly, leading the way toward the closest entrance, which was surrounded by a swarm of warrior cats.

"Prime seats!" a Government she-cat called at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight up, Weaseltail, as high as you can go."

The stairs into the arena were carpeted in rich blue. The cats climbed upward with the rest of the crowd, which sifted away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Weaseltail's party kept climbing, and soon, they reached the top of the staircase and arrived in a small box, set at the highest point of the arena and located halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple chairs stood in two rows here, and Nightfang, settling down into the front seats with the Weasley cats, looked down upon a scene which he could never have imagined.

A hundred thousand cats big and small were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long egg-shaped field. Everything was covered with a mysterious silver light, which seemed to come from the arena itself. The field looked just as smooth as velvet from their grand position. At either end stood three goal hoops, sky-lengths; right opposite them, at Nightfang's eye level, was a vast chalkboard. Gold writing kept appearing as if a giant Twoleg's hand was scribbling upon the chalkboard and then wiping it off again. Watching it, the black cat saw that it was flashing ads across the field.

_The Bluebell: Wings for the Family...safe, reliable, and with Fitted Anti-Robber Alarm. Mrs. Shower's All Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain! Happy-rags Warrior Style Shirts; Juneau, New York, London, Paris, Tokyo..._

Nightfang looked away from the sign and looked over his shoulder to see who else was sharing the box. It was empty...except for a little animal sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. The animals, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a Roman robe, and it had its face hidden in its short hands. Yet the long tail was somewhat familiar...

"Bobby?" Nightfang asked in amazement.

The animal looked up and stepped into the light, revealing huge brown eyes and a nose like a large tomato. It even had brown fur, and its ears were so short it couldn't cover its head. It wasn't Bobby; it was, however, clearly a lemur...a mouse lemur. A house-lemur like Nightfang's friend Bobby, a flying lemur. It was Nightfang who freed Bobby from the Malfoy family, his previous owners.

"Did sir just call me Bobby?" the lemur squeaked curiously from its hands.

Its voice was higher even than Bobby's, a teeny quaking squeak, and Nightfang suspected that, even though it was very hard to tell with a lemur, this one might be a female. Both Redstone and Fawnwillow spun around in their seats to look at her. Although they had heard some stuff about Bobby from Nightfang, they had never met him. Even Weaseltail looked around in curiosity.

Nightfang looked away. "Sorry about that. I just thought you were a friend of mine."

"But I knows Bobby too, sir!" the mouse lemur squeaked. She was shielding her face as if she was blinded by light, though the Top Box wasn't brightly lit. "My name is Twinkies, sir. And you, sir..." Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of plates as they rested upon Nightfang's white lightning-shaped scar. "You is Nightfang Potter!"

"Yeah," Nightfang replied, nodding. "I am."

The lemur lowered her hands slightly and looked awestruck. "But Bobby talks about you all the time, sir!"

Nightfang purred, happy to think about his lemur friend. "So how's he doing? How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," Twinkies said, shaking her head. "I mean no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Bobby a favor when you set him free, sir."

"What?" Nightfang meowed, taken aback. "Why, what's wrong with him?"

Twinkies replied, "Freedom is going much to Bobby's head, sir. Ideas above normal lemur standards, sir. Can't get another position."

Nightfang tilted his head to one side. "Why?"

"He is wanting payment for work, sir," Twinkies whispered, lowering her voice.

"Payment for work?" Nightfang repeated blankly. "That's not bad. Why on earth shouldn't he be paid?"

Twinkies looked horrified at the idea and held her hands slightly over her face so that it was half-hidden again. She said in a muffled squeak, "House-elves is not paid, sir! No, no, no, no, no. I says to Bobby, 'Go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Bobby!' He is getting up to all sorts of mischiefs, sir; it is improper for a house-lemur. I says 'You goes racketing around like this, Bobby, and next thing I hear, you is up in front of the Section for the Ruling and Control of Other Animals like a monkey."

Nightfang looked down gently at the mouse lemur. "I think he just wants some fun. Maybe it's time he had some once in a while."

"House-lemurs is not supposed to have fun, sir. Not at all," Twinkies said firmly from behind her hands. "House-lemurs do what they is told. I do not like heights at all, sir..." She glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped. "...but my master sends me to the Top Box, and I comes."

"If he knows you don't like heights, why'd he send you up here?" Nightfang asked, frowning.

Twinkies tilted her heard to the empty seat behind her. "Master...wants me to save him a seat, sir. He is very busy. Twinkies wishes she is back in master's tent, Nightfang Potter, but Twinkies does what she is told to do. Twinkies is a good and faithful house-lemur."

She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. At this, Nightfang turned back to the others, who were watching him.

"So that's a house-lemur?" Redstone muttered. "Weird, aren't they?"

"Bobby was weirder," Nightfang replied zealously.

Redstone pulled out his Omni-binoculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium. He twiddled the replay knob on the side and mewed, "Wow! This is so cool! I can make that old guy down there pick his nose over and over and over and over again!"

Beside him, Fawnwillow was skimming eagerly through her velvet-covered tasseled program. "'A display from the team mascots will lead the match,'" she read aloud.

"Oh, that's worth watching," Weaseltail added happily. "National teams bring animals from their native land to put on a bit of a show. Did you know that?"

"Nope."

The box filled slowly around them over the next half hour. Weaseltail kept greeting cats who were obviously very important warrior cats. Sandthorn leapt up to his paws so frequently that he looked like he was trying to sit on a very angry porcupine. When Fudgepelt Fudge, the Governor of Warriorism himself, arrived, he bowed so low that the tail of a passing liger knocked him down to the floor.

Highly embarrassed, he got up and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Nightfang, whom Fudgepelt had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and the chocolate-furred Havana Brown nodded to him in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the warriors on either side of him.

"This is Nightfang Potter. Potter, you know," he told the German governor loudly, who had on a cape of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand English. "Oh come now, you know who he is. He's the cat who defeated You-Know-Who. You DO know who he is, don't you?"

The black-&-white cat suddenly spotted Nightfang's scar and started chatting excitedly, pointing his paw at it.

Fudgepelt turned to Nightfang and sighed. "Knew we'd get there in the end. I'm no expert at languages; I need Crouchfoot for this. And I see his house-lemur's saving him a seat. Good job too; the German cats have been trying to steal all the best places. Hello, Blizzardclaw!"

Hearing this, the Golden Trio turned around quickly. Creeping along the second row to three empty seats behind Weaseltail were none other than Bobby's former owners: the Malfoys, who were all British Shorthairs. They were Blizzardclaw Malfoy, his son Iceheart, and a she-cat Nightfang guessed must be Iceheart's mother.

Nightfang and Iceheart had been bitter enemies ever since their first year at the Forest. A pale tom with a broad face and black-&-silver tabby furred, Iceheart greatly resembled his father. His mother was also black-&-silver tabby like her mate and kit. She would have been attractive if she didn't look like there was a nasty smell under her nose.

"Hello, Governor," Blizzardclaw mewed right away as he reached Fudgepelt. "How are you? I don't think you've met my mate Frozenbrook? Or our son Iceheart?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" Fudgepelt purred, bowing to Frozenbrook. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblan...Obalon...well, he's the German Governor of Warriorism, and he can't understand what I'm saying, so never mind. And let's see who else...you know Weaseltail Weasley, right?"

It was a tense moment. Weaseltail and Blizzardclaw looked at each other, and Nightfang could recall the last time they had come face-to-face. It had been in Blooming And Weeds bookshop, and they had fought there. Blizzardclaw's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.

"Great StarClan above, Weasley," he hissed softly. "What did you sell to get seats here in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't cost so much? And when it rains...you'll be the first to know."

_Stupid arrogant bastard, _Nightfang thought savagely.

Weaseltail bared his fangs, but Fudgepelt (who wasn't listening) meowed, "Blizzardclaw has just given a very lavish donation to St. Mongo's Clinic for Magical Diseases and Injuries, Weaseltail. He's my guest tonight."

"That's...that's nice," Weaseltail meowed with a very strained smile.

Blizzardclaw's cold gray eyes glowered at Fawnwillow with contempt, but the light brown tabby she-cat stared determinedly back at him. Nightfang knew what was making his lip curl like that. The Malfoy cats prided themselves on being purebreeds, so they believed that anyone of kittypet descent like Fawnwillow were worthless.

However, under the gaze of Fudgepelt, Blizzardclaw didn't dare say anything. He merely nodded scornfully to Weaseltail and continued down the line to his family's seats. Iceheart gave the Golden Trio a disdainful look before he settled himself between his parents.

"Stupid fox-hearts," Redstone muttered at they turned to face the field again. In the next second, Graytail charged into the box.

"Everyone ready?" he asked, his round face gleaming like a big excited kit. "You all ready to go, Governor?"

Fudgepelt nodded. "Ready when you are."

The Siberian mix flicked his tail-wand, pointed his paw at his own throat, and yowled loudly, _"Sonorus!" _Then he spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed arena; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentle-cats! Cats of all ages, species, and breeds! Welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second AirBall World Trophy!"

The viewers yowled and cheered. Thousands of flags waved, adding their own national anthems to the noise. The huge chalkboard opposite from them wiped off its last message (Every Flavored Skittles: A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed this: GERMANY: 0, CANADA: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the German National Team Mascots!"

The rightward side of the stands, which was a solid block of crimson, yowled its approval.

"I wonder what they brought here," Weaseltail mewed, leaning forward in his seat. Suddenly, he wiped his eyes with his forepaws and cheered. "Ahh! Lynxes!"

"What are lynxes doing-?"

But plenty of lynxes were now sliding out onto the field, and Nightfang's question was answered. These lynxes were cats...but they were the most beautiful she-cats he had ever seen, with pure snowy-white fur speckled with black spots. But they weren't closely...normal cats. This baffled Nightfang while he tried to guess what they could be; what could make their spotted pelts shine moon-bright like that or their long fur fan out behind them without wind? But then the music just started, and Nightfang stopped worrying about them not being cats. In fact, he stopped worrying about anything.

The lynxes had started to dance, and Nightfang's mind had gone totally and joyfully blank. All that mattered now was that he kept watching the lynxes, because if they stopped, something very terrible would happen. And as these beautiful she-cats danced faster and faster, crazy thoughts started chasing through the black tom's dazed mind. He wanted to do something impressive, right there and right now. Jumping from the box into the stadium seemed good...but would it be good enough?

"Nightfang? What the hell are you doing?" Fawnwillow's voice mewed from far away.

The music stopped, making Nightfang blink. He was standing up and crouching on the wall of the box, as if ready to pounce. Next to him, Redstone was frozen with a look that looked like he was about to jump off a cliff.

Angry yowls were filling the stadium, for the crowd didn't want the lynxes to go. Nightfang was with them; he would, of course, be supporting Germany, and he wondered vaguely why he had a large red maple leaf in his head fur. Redstone, meanwhile, was absently mincing up the maple leaves on his hat as Weaseltail leaned over to his son and tugged the hat out of his grasp, smiling a bit.

"You'll need that once Canada takes the lead," he purred.

"Huh?" Redstone asked, staring slack-jawed at the lynxes, who had lined up along one side of the field.

Fawnwillow made a loud sigh, reached up, and pulled Nightfang back into his seat. "Seriously?" she asked. "Get down before you hurt yourself!"

"And now..." Graytail went on loudly. "...kindly raise your paws in the air...for the Canadian National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a giant red-&-white comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one trip around the stadium, then it split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A cloud of multi-colored snow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd gasped in awe as if this was a fireworks display. Now the snow cloud faded, and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shining maple leaf, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands, doing a little dance. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it.

"Awesome!" Redstone cheered as the leaf soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Peering up at the leaf, Nightfang realized that it was actually covered with loads of beavers with red vests, each carrying a tiny lamp of red or white.

"Beavers! Hardest workers of the animal kingdom!" Weaseltail called over the wild applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and delving around under their chairs to retrieve the gold coins.

Redstone happily shoved a pack of gold coins into Nightfang's paws. "Here you go! This here is for the Omni-binoculars! Now you HAVE to buy me a Christmas present! Ha!"

The great maple leaf dissolved. The beavers magically drifted down onto the field on the other side from the lynxes and settled down on piles of logs to watch the match.

"And now, everyone, kindly welcome...the German National AirBall Team! Here's...Dimitrov!"

A crimson figure with wings shot out onto the field from a below entrance. It was moving so fast it was blurred. This caused a lot of wild applause from the supporters of Germany.

"Ivanova!"

A second crimson player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand...Krum!"

At the cheers, Redstone followed the cat with his Omni-binoculars. As Nightfang followed suit, he heard the ginger tom yowl, "That's him! Earthclaw Krum!"

Nightfang looked back at the field. Earthclaw Krum was tall, short-haired, and dark brown tabby. He had a lean narrow face and piercing yellow eyes, making him look like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And now, please welcome...the Canadian National AirBall Team!" Graytail called. "Here they are...Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand...Lynch!"

Seven white blurs swept onto the field; Nightfang spun a small dial on the side of his Omni-binoculars and slowed the players down enough to read the words on the wings, which were pure white like his. "Thunderbolt" was read on each of their wings, and their names were embroidered in platinum on the rims.

"And here, all the way from Jerusalem, Israel, here is our referee! He is the famous Chair-warrior of the Worldwide Link of AirBall, Jafar Mustafa!"

A small and skinny serval, shorthaired but with a mustache to rival Bristle's, was padding out onto the stadium. He was also wearing a cape of pure gold to match the arena, and the cape was encrusted with exotic jewels. A silver whistle stuck out from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate by wagon and wings on his back.

Nightfang spun the speed dial on his Omni-binoculars back to normal, watching closely as the skinny tabby kicked the crate open. Four balls burst into the air:the red Qualify, the two black Budgers, and (Nightfang saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the very tiny winged Golden Pinch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mustafa rose into the air after the balls.

"Aaaaaaaand they're OFF!" Graytail yowled. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

Nightfang had never seen AirBall played like this before. He was pressing his Omni-binoculars so hard that the rims were cutting into the bridge of his nose. The speed of the players was very incredible; the Chasers were throwing the Qualify to one another so fast that Graytail only had time to say their names.

So he spun the slow dial on the right of his Omni-binoculars again, pressed the play-by-play button on the top, and relaxed. He was now watching in slow motion while glittering purple print flashed across the lenses and the noise of the crowd rang in his ears.

HAWKSHEAD ATTACKING FORMATION, he read as he viewed the three Canadian Chasers zoom close together, Troy in the center and slightly ahead of Mullet and Moran, bearing down on the Germans. PORSKOFF PLOY flashed up next, as Troy darted upward with the Qualify, drawing away the German Chaser Ivanova and dropping the Qualify to Moran. One of the German Thrashers, Volkov, swung hard at a passing Budger with his small club, knocking it into Moran's path. Moran ducked to avoid the Budger but dropped the Qualify, and Levski caught it.

"TROY SCORES!" Graytail shrieked, and the arena shook with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Canada!"

"What?" Nightfang yelped, looking wildly around through his Omni-binoculars. "But that's not right! Levski's got the Qualify!"

"Nightfang, just watch in normal speed if you wanna see the good stuff!" Fawnwillow yowled, leaping up and down and waving while Troy did a lap of honor around the field.

Nightfang looked quickly over the top of his Omni-binoculars and saw that the beavers on the sidelines had all risen into the air again and formed the great shining maple leaf. Across the field, the lynxes were watching them sullenly. Silently cursing himself, for being distracted, Nightfang spun his speed dial back to normal.

Nightfang knew enough about AirBall to see that the Canadian Chasers were terrific. They were working like a unified pack of wolves, their movements so well matched that they appeared to be reading each other's minds as they positioned themselves, and the badge on Nightfang's chest kept squeaking their names. And within ten minutes, Canada had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a loud tide of roars and applause from the white caped fans.

The match became faster but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the German Thrashers, were whacking the Budgers as brutally as possible at the Canadian Chasers and trying to prevent them from using some of their best moves. They were forced to scatter twice, and then, at long last, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks, dodge the Keeper, and score Germany's first goal.

"Paws over your ears!" Weaseltail called as the lynxes started to dance in celebration. Nightfang screwed up his eyes too; he just wanted to keep his mind on the game. After a few seconds, he glanced down at the field. The lynxes had stopped dancing, and Germany once again held the Qualify.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova...oh!" Graytail called.

One hundred thousand cats gasped as the two Seekers, Earthclaw and Lynch, plunged through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked like they just jumped from cliffs above the sea. Nightfang's eyes followed their drop through the Omni-binoculars, squinting to see where the Pinch was at.

"They're gonna crash!" Fawnwillow yowled.

She was half right; at the very last second, Earthclaw pulled out of the dive and flew off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the seats of the Canadians.

"Fool!" Weaseltail screeched. "Krum was feinting!"

Graytail saw this too, for he yowled, "Time-out, everyone! Let the trained medicine cats hurry onto the field to examine Bluestreak Lynch!"

To Leafheart, who was looking very stunned, Clawfoot mewed reassuringly, "He'll be okay, sis. He only crashed! Which is what Earthclaw wanted, of course."

Nightfang quickly pressed the replay button on his Omni-binoculars, handled the speed dial, and put them back to his eyes. He watched as Earthclaw and Lynch dove deep again in slow motion. WRONSKI PROTECTIVE FEINT: DANGEROUS SEEKER DISTRACTION, read the shining letters across his lenses. He saw Earthclaw's broad face twisted with focus as he pulled out of the dive in time, while Lynch fell. Then Nightfang knew.

Earthclaw didn't see the Pinch; he was just making Lynch copy him. Nightfang had never seen anyone fly like that before. The dark brown tabby hardly looked like he was flying with wings at all. He moved so easily through the air that he looked unsupported and light as a feather.

_Wow...what a diversion!_

He turned his Omni-binoculars back to normal and focused them on Earthclaw. He was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by medicine cats with potions. Nightfang, focusing more closely upon Earthclaw's face, saw his yellow eyes darting over the ground sky-lengths below. He was using the time while Lynch was revived to look for the Pinch without any interference.

Lynch got back up to his paws at last, to loud cheers from the white-clad supporters, got his own Thunderbolt wings back on, and flew off into the air. His revival seemed to give Canada some new courage. When Jafar blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unsurpassed by anything Nightfang had seen so far. And after fifteen fast and furious minutes, Canada pulled ahead by ten more goals.

They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Qualify tightly in her jaws, the German Keeper, Zograf, flew out to confront. Whatever had happened was over so quickly that Nightfang didn't catch it, but a yowl of rage from the Canadians, and Jafar's shrill whistle blast, told him it was a foul.

"And Mustafa takes the German Keeper to task for too much use of paw swipes to the face!" Graytail informed the noisy viewers. "And yes, Canada gets a penalty!"

The beavers, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of sparkling hornets when Mullet was fouled, now dashed together to form the words "HA HA HA!" The lynxes on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their head fur angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, the Weasley cats and Nightfang stuffed their paws into their ears, but Fawnwillow, who didn't, was tugging on his tail. He turned to look at her, and she pulled his paws impatiently out of his ears.

"Look at the referee!" she giggled.

Nightfang looked down at the field and stifled a laugh. Jafar Mustafa had landed in front of the dancing lynxes and was acting very oddly indeed. He was smoothing his mustache excitedly and giving them a sly grin.

"Oh, we can't have that!" Graytail called, though he sounded amused. "Somebody give the fellow a quick slap!"

A medicine cheetah came tearing across the field, head bent to ignore the sound, and cuffed Jafar on the head. Jafar seemed to come to himself; Nightfang, who was watching through the Omni-binoculars again, saw that he looked embarrassed and started yowling at the lynxes. The white she-cats stopped dancing and were looking rebellious.

"And unless I'm mistaken, Mustafa is trying to send off the German team mascots!" Graytail yowled "Now there's something we haven't seen before! Oh, this could turn nasty..."

It did.

The German Thrashers, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed beside Jafar and began to yowl furiously, waving at the beavers, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE HEE HEE." Jafar was not impressed by the German cats' arguments, however; he was pointing his paw into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they declined, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"_Two_ penalties for Canada!" Graytail yowled, and the German cats screeched in anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back to the sky...yep, there they go. And Troy takes the Qualify."

The match now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything the cats had yet seen. The Thrashers on both sides were acting without pity; Volkov and Vulchanov in general seemed not to care if their clubs made contact with Budger or cat as they swung them violently through the air. Then Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Qualify, nearly knocking her out of the sky.

"Foul!" the Canadian cats yowled as one, all standing up in a great wave of red-&-white.

"Foul!" Graytail echoed. "Dimitrov skins Moran, deliberately flying to crash there...and it's got to be another penalty. And there's the whistle!"

The beavers had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant Twoleg hand, which made a rude sign (flipping the bird) at the lynxes across the field. At this, the lynxes lost control. Instead of dancing, they hurled themselves across the field and began swiping what seemed to be pawfuls of fire at the aquatic rodents. Watching through his Omni-binoculars, Nightfang saw that they didn't look beautiful now. In contrast, their faces were contorting into weird and disturbing demonic shapes, their blue or green eyes turning blood-red...

"And that, boys..." Weaseltail yowled over the uproar of the crowd, "...is why you never go for looks alone!"

Government warriors were flooding onto the field to separate the lynxes and the beavers, but they had little success. Meanwhile, the battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. Nightfang looked around, staring through his Omni-binoculars, as the Qualify changed paws with the speed of a bullet.

"Levski, Dimitrov, Moran, Troy, Mullet, Ivanova, Moran again, Moran...MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Canadians were barely heard over the screams of the lynxes, the blasts now erupting from the Government cats' tail-wands, and the furious roars of the German cats. The game resumed immediately; now Levski had the Qualify, then Dimitrov. The Canadian Thrasher Quigley swung heavily at a passing Budger and hit it as hard as possible towards Earthclaw, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face, making him grunt in pain.

There was a loud groan from the crowd. Earthclaw's face looked bashed and covered in blood, but Jafar didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and Nightfang couldn't blame him; one of the lynxes had swiped a pawful of fire and set his tail alight. Nightfang wanted someone to realize that Earthclaw was hurt; even though he was supporting Canada, Earthclaw was the most exciting player on the field.

Redstone obviously felt the same, for he yowled, "Time-out! Come on, he can't play like that! Look at him!"

"Look at Lynch!" Nightfang yowled.

For the Canadian Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and Nightfang realized that this was no Wronski Feint. _This is the real thing._

"He's seen the Pinch!" the British Shorthair mix yowled. "He saw it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening. The Canadian cats rose in another great wave of red-&-white, cheering their Seeker on. But Earthclaw was on his tail; however he could see where he was going, Nightfang had no idea. There were specks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was catching up to Lynch now as the two cats hurtled towards the ground again...

"They're gonna crash!" Fawnwillow cried.

"No they're not!" Redstone called back.

"But Lynch is!" Nightfang yowled.

And he was right. For the second time, Lynch hit the ground with great force and was trampled by a gang of angry lynxes.

"Wait a minute! Where'd the Pinch go?" Clawfoot yowled.

"He got it! Earthclaw actually got it!" Nightfang called. "It's all over!"

Earthclaw was rising gently into the air, his head held high as he held a glint of gold in his jaws. Blood was still falling slightly from his face, but he looked completely unfazed by the injury. In fact, he even wore it like a badge of honor.

The scoreboard was flashing GERMANY: 160, CANADA: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to see what had happened. Then, slowly, as if a great crowd of pterosaurs were cawing, the rumbling from the Canadians grew louder and louder and erupted into yowls of delight.

"CANADA WINS!" Graytail yowled, who also seemed to be stunned by the sudden end of the match. "EARTHCLAW KRUM GETS THE PINCH, BUT CANADA WINS! StarClan above, I don't think we were expecting that!"

"What'd he want to catch the Pinch for?" Redstone screeched, even as he cheered. "He ended it when Canada was a hundred and sixty points ahead! Mouse-brained idiot!"

"He knew they wouldn't catch up!" Nightfang called back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Canadian Chasers were too good! He wanted to end it soon, that's all!"

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Fawnwillow sighed, leaning forward to watch Earthclaw land as a swarm of medicine cats blasted a path through the battling beavers and lynxes to get to him in time. "He looks terribly messy."

Nightfang put his Omni-binoculars to his green eyes again. It was quite hard to see what was happening below, for beavers were zooming gleefully all over the field, but he could just see Earthclaw, surrounded by medicine cats. The dark tabby tom looked gruffer than before and even refused to let them clean his wounds. His teammates were around him, shaking their heads and looking crestfallen. Not too far away, the Canadian players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold falling from their mascots.

Flags waved all over the stadium, and the Canadian national anthem blared from all sides. The lynxes were back in their usual beautiful selves now, though they looked dejected and pitiful.

"Ve fought bravely," a gloomy voice behind Nightfang meowed. He looked around to see the black-&-white German Governor of Warriorism.

"You can speak English?" Fudgepelt asked, sounding annoyed. "And you didn't say something? You've been letting me mime everything all day!"

The black-&-white tom shrugged. "Veil, it _vas_ very funny."

"And as the Canadian team makes a lap of honor and flanked by their mascots, the AirBall World Trophy itself is brought into the Top Box!" Graytail yowled.

Nightfang's bright green eyes were suddenly dazed by a blinding white light, for the Top Box was magically lit up so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Peering at the entrance, he saw two strong leopards carrying a vast golden trophy into the box, which they handed to Fudgepelt, who still looked irritated at having to use sign language all day for nothing.

With this done, Graytail yowled, "Let's have a loud hand for the chivalrous losers: Germany!"

And up the stairs came the seven defeated German cats. The crowd below was cheering in a very appreciative way; Nightfang could see tons of Omni-binocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction. He supposed they wanted to see the German cats as much as he did.

One by one, the Germans filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Graytail called out the name of each as they nodded to their own governor and then to Fudgepelt. Earthclaw, who was last in line, looked really messy. His bright yellow eyes were blooming amazingly on his bloody face, still holding the Pinch in his jaws. Nightfang saw that he seemed much less matched on the ground than in the air. His paws were splayed out like a Twoleg's hand, and he was distinctly broad-shouldered. But when Earthclaw's name was called, the whole arena gave him a definite earsplitting roar.

And then came the Canadian team. Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him, and his eyes looked bleary. But he smiled happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Trophy into the air, and the crowd below thundered its approval. Nightfang's eyes were still dazzled a bit from the light, but he paid no attention to it. At last, when the Canadians left the box to perform another lap of honor (Aidan Lynch on the back of Confolly, still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Graytail pointed a paw at his throat and muttered, _"Quietus."_

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he meowed hoarsely to Weaseltail. "That was really a very unexpected twist, that. Shame it couldn't have lasted longer, but it was amazing!" Then as the Weasely twins padded forth with smiles and open bags, he meowed, "Oh yes, I almost forgot for a second. I owe you...how much did you want?"

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: You all excited about the next chapter? The action continues on that chapter, you know!**

**Other than that...nothing much is going on here. The school year's gonna start sometime, and my brother's going into the 11****th**** grade. Plus, my WOW play-time is almost up, so I'm trying to spend the rest of it doing whatever it takes for several of my characters to level up.**

**But anyways, read and review, folks! Those who do will receive either a virtual beaver or lynx. I don't allow flames on here; if there are any, they'll be used to make S'Mores. I DO allow advice and constructive criticism, but as long as it's not harsh, it'll be okay.**

**See ya next time!**


	9. The Dark Mark

**AvatarCat12: Hey, everyone! Sorry I took so long in uploading. But I might not be on here to upload some more, so I'll tell you why.**

**Those watching the Weather Channel will see that we're having a hurricane situation down here in the south. And my mom said that even after the hurricane passes, there could still be a chance for a tornado, flooding, or no power to come around. So if the blackout comes, then you'll know I'm not on FanFiction. But if it's all clear, then I'll be back on.**

**Sorry to keep you worrying. Here's the disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: You all know the truth. I do NOT own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats.**

**Uploading Date: August 28, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Dark Mark**_

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Weaseltail told the twins as they all padded their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

"Don't worry, Dad," Berrytail purred gleefully. "We've got some great big plans for this money. We don't want it taken away."

Their father looked for a moment as if he was going to ask what these big plans were. But to Nightfang, he seemed to decide that he didn't want to know.

They soon caught up with the crowds now flooding out of the arena and back to their campsites. Loud singing was carried to them on the night air as they padded along the lantern-lit path, and flying beavers kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their tails. When they finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping, and due to the level of noise around them, Weaseltail agreed that they could all have one last round of soda together before hitting the sack.

They were soon arguing enjoyably about the match. Weaseltail got drawn into a disagreement about shouldering with Clawfoot. And it was only when Earthclaw was mentioned that the friendly teasing began.

"There's no one like him!" Redstone meowed. "He's like a bald eagle the way he rides the wind! He's more than an athlete! He's an artist!"

"I think you're in love, Redstone," Leafheart purred, flicking her brother's face with her feathery tail.

Redstone gave her a mock glare. "Oh, shut up!"

"_Oh Earthclaw, I love you!" _Cherrynose sang, holding one of his brother's paws.

"I do!" Berrytail joined in, holding his brother's other paw.

Nightfang joined the twins as all three sang, _"When we're apart, my heart beats only for you!"_

After some more talking and other stuff, Leafheart fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled some cola all over the floor. Then Weaseltail called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone should go to sleep. The she-cats went into the next tent, and Nightfang and the other toms just clambered into their nests. From the other side of the campground, they could still hear singing and the echoing bang.

"I'm glad I'm not on duty," Weaseltail yawned sleepily. "I don't want to have to go and tell the Canadians they've got to stop celebrating."

Nightfang, who was resting in the bunk directly above Redstone, stared up at the ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional lantern flying overhead and picturing again some of Earthclaw's great moves. He wanted to get his own Thunderbolt on and try the Wronski Feint. Somehow, Treebranch had never managed to express with all his writhing diagrams what that move should look like. Nightfang saw himself in a cape that had his name on it and imagined the feeling of hearing a strong crowd roar while Graytail's voice echoed throughout the arena, _"I give you… Potter!"_

Nightfang never knew whether or not he had actually dropped off to sleep; his fantasies of flying like Earthclaw might well have slipped into definite dreams. All he knew was that as soon as he closed his eyes, quite suddenly, Weaseltail was shouting.

"Get up! You two, come on now! Get up! This is serious!"

Nightfang sat up quickly, and his head hit the canvas. "Wha's wrong?" he groaned.

Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed, for the singing had stopped, and now screams of terror and the sounds of cats running were now heard. He leapt down from the bunk and decided to go for a drink, but Weaseltail meowed quickly, "No time, Nightfang! Just get outside! Quickly!"

The black tom did as he was told and hurried out of the tent, Redstone behind him. By the light of the few fires still burning, he could see small cats running away into the forests, fleeing from something that was moving across the field toward them. Something emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Plus...he found a few leopards, jaguars, and even tigons unconscious on the ground.

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and satanic chants were drifting toward them before a burst of green light lit up the scene. A crowd of cats, tightly packed and moving together with tails pointing up to the sky, was marching slowly across the field. Nightfang squinted at them; they didn't seem to have faces. Then he realized that their heads were hooded, and their faces had black masks with red eyes.

High above them, floating in midair, four struggling cats were being twisted into surreal shapes. It was as if the masked cats on the ground were puppet masters, and the cats above were puppets operated by invisible strings that rose from the tail-wands into the air. Two of the cats were very small; they must be kits. More warrior cats joined the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents were slashed apart and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Nightfang saw a marcher blast a wandering moose out of the way with his tail-wand. The screaming just grew louder.

The floating cats were suddenly lit up as they passed over a burning tent, and Nightfang quickly recognized one of them: Mr. Swanson, the campsite manager. The other three looked like they his mate and kits. A marcher below flipped Mrs. Swanson upside down with his tail-wand; her tail was blown away from between her legs, and she struggled to cover herself as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

"That's disgusting," Redstone groaned, watching the smallest kit begin to spin above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is REALLY disgusting."

Fawnwillow and Leafheart had come hurrying toward them, Weaseltail right behind them. At the same moment, Birdstorm, Clawfoot, and Sandthorn padded out of the toms' tent, their eyes of blue or amber narrowing, their claws unsheathed, and their tail-wands held high.

"We'll go help the Government out!" Weaseltail yowled over all the noise. "You kids get into the woods and stick together. I'll come fetch you when we're finished!"

He leapt away while his oldest sons were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers. Government cats big and small were dashing from every direction toward the source of all the trouble. The crowd beneath the kittypet family was coming ever closer.

"Come on. Let's go," Berrytail rasped, gently nudging Leafheart towards the forest. The Golden Trio and Cherrynose followed them close by.

They all looked back as they reached the shade of the trees. The crowd underneath the Swanson family was larger than ever; they could see the Government cats trying to get through it to get to the masked cats in the center, but they were having terrible difficulty. It looked like they were scared to make any spell that could make the Swanson family fall.

The colored lanterns that lit the path to the arena had been turned off. Dark figures blundered through the trees, kits were wailing, and anxious shouts and panicked voices reverberated around them in the cold night air. Nightfang felt himself being pushed back and forth by cats he could not see. Then he heard Redstone hiss with pain.

"What happened?" Fawnwillow anxiously, stopping so quickly that Nightfang crashed into her. "Redstone, where are you? Oh, this is so mouse-brained! _Lumos!_"

She lit up her tail-wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Redstone was lying on his side on the ground, growling as he waved one of his forepaws about.

"Tripped over a tree root," he groaned angrily, getting up again.

"Hard not to with paws that size," a drawling voice sneered from behind them.

The Golden Trio turned sharply, for they recognized that voice. Iceheart Malfoy was sitting alone in the fork of a tree, looking utterly relaxed. By the way his ears were flicking about, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.

Redstone glared up at the black tabby and hissed, "Why don't you do the whole world a favor and go fuck yourself?!"

Nightfang winced; he knew his friend would never say that in front of Hollywhisker.

"Language, Weasley," Iceheart jeered, his pale eyes glittering. "Shouldn't you be moving along now? You don't want _her_ to be spotted, now would you?" he added, flicking his tail down at Fawnwillow.

At the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campground. And just then, a flash of green light briefly lit the trees around them, scaring some cats into hiding.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fawnwillow hissed defiantly up at Iceheart.

The British Shorthair's lips curled to a sneer. "They're after _kittypets_, Granger. You want to be showing off your privates in midair? Then hang around. They're moving this way, and it'll be a sight to laugh about."

"Fawnwillow's a warrior," Nightfang snarled.

"Whatever you say, Potter," Iceheart retorted, grinning cruelly. "If you think they can't spot a kittyblood, then stay where you are."

"Watch your mouth!" Redstone roared up at him. Nightfang knew that the word "kittyblood" was a very offensive and bigoted word for a warrior of kittypet ancestry.

Fawnwillow mewed something quickly, holding Redstone's tail to keep him back before he could climb up the tree toward Iceheart. There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard as several cats nearby screeched. Instead of looking a bit sorry, Iceheart just chuckled softly.

"Scare easily, don't they?" he meowed lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to, going to rescue those filthy kittypets?"

Nightfang glared up at him, his temper rising. "Well, where are YOUR parents? Out there with them wearing masks?"

Iceheart turned his broad face to the black cat, still sneering. "Well, if they were, I wouldn't tell you, would I, Potter?"

"Come on," Fawnwillow hissed, throwing a revolted look at the black-&-silver tabby. "Let's go find the others."

"Go on ahead," Iceheart sneered after them. "Just remember to keep that big bushy tail down, Granger."

Fawnwillow hissed at this as she nudged Nightfang and Redstone up the path again.

"I bet his dad is one of those cats in the masks!" Redstone spat hotly.

Fawnwillow replied fervently, "Well, with any luck, the Government will catch him...I don't believe this. Where did the others go?"

For Berrytail, Cherrynose, and even Leafheart were gone, though the path was packed with lots of other cats, all looking fretfully over their shoulders toward the fuss back at the campsite. A huddle of juvenile cats was arguing loudly a little way along the path. When they saw the Golden Trio, a Chartreux she-cat turned over to see them.

She padded forth to meow in French, "Oü est Madame Maxine? Nous l'avons perdue?"

"Pardon?" Redstone asked.

"Oh." The Chartreux turned her back on him, and as they walked on, they heard her meow, "Forest cats."

"Oasis cats," Fawnwillow muttered.

"Huh?" Nightfang asked.

Fawnwillow turned to him. "They probably go to the Oasis in France. You know? The Oasis, Academy of Feline Magic? I read about it in An Evaluation of Magical Schooling in Europe."

Nightfang nodded.

"The twins can't have gone that far," Redstone meowed, lifting up his tail-wand and lighting it like Fawnwillow's. Nightfang tried to do the same, but his tail-wand wasn't working. And when he looked behind him, he saw why it didn't work: it wasn't there.

"Damn!" he cursed. "I lost my tail-wand!"

"What?!"

His friends raised their tail-wands high enough to spread the thin beams of light farther on the ground. Nightfang looked all around him and even dug a few holes here and there, but his tail-wand was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe it's back in the tent," Redstone meowed.

"Maybe it fell off when we were running?" Fawnwillow suggested nervously.

Nightfang looked down. "Yeah, maybe..."

He usually kept his tail-wand with him at all times in the warrior world; finding himself without it in the middle of a disaster like this made him feel vulnerable. A rustling noise nearby made all three cats jump, but it was just Twinkies. The mouse lemur was fighting her way out of a clump of bramble bushes nearby. She was moving in a most peculiar fashion with great difficulty; it was like an invisible cat was trying to pull her back.

"There is bad cats about!" she squeaked vaguely as she leapt away into the trees. "Cats high in the air! Twinkies is getting out of here!"

And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path. They heard her panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her.

"What's up with her?" Redstone asked, looking curiously after where Twinkies leapt away to. "Why can't she run correctly?"

"Bet she didn't ask permission to hide," Nightfang replied, remembering Bobby. Every time he had tried to do something the Malfoy cats wouldn't like, he would start beating himself up.

"You know, lemurs don't have that many rights!" Fawnwillow spat indignantly. "Slavery, that's what it is! Crouchfoot made her go up to the top of the arena even though she was scared, and he must've got her bewitched so she can't even run when they start squashing the tents! Why doesn't anyone stop it?"

Redstone meowed, "Well, the lemurs are happy with it, you know? You heard old Twinkies back at the match; she said lemurs shouldn't have fun. I'm sure she just likes being bossed around."

The Angora mix glared at him. "It's cats like you who create terrible and unfair systems just because they're too lazy to-!"

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the forest.

"Let's keep moving, okay?" Redstone squeaked, but Nightfang saw him glance edgily over at Fawnwillow. Perhaps Iceheart was right; perhaps she was in more danger than they were.

They padded off again, Nightfang still flicking his tail even though he knew his tail-wand wasn't there. They followed the dark path deeper into the wood, still keeping an eye out for the twins and Leafheart. They passed a troop of baboons cackling over a sack of gold that they won betting on the match; they seemed unruffled by the trouble at the campground. Farther along the path, they walked into a patch of silver light; when they looked through the tall trees, they saw three beautiful white-furred female lynxes standing in a clearing, enclosed by a horde of young cats, all of them talking very loudly.

"I make tons of Galleons a year!" one of them shouted. "I'm a dragon slayer for the Team for the Removal of Dangerous Animals!"

"No, you're not!" his friend retorted. "You're just a dingy fry cook at the Dripping Pot! But I'm a legendary bear hunter! I've killed about ninety grizzly bears so far!"

A third cat, whose whiskers looked missing, now cut in, "I'm just about to be the youngest ever Governor of Warriorism, I am."

Nightfang snorted with laughter, but he recognized the tabby cat, though. It was Steve Shunpike, a conductor on the triple-deck Knight Bus. He turned to tell Redstone this, but his face had gone strangely relaxed. And in the next second, the American Shorthair was yowling, "Hey, did I tell you I've invented wings that'll take you to Jupiter?"

Fawnwillow merely snorted as she and Nightfang grabbed him firmly by the scruff, moved him around, and marched him away. By the time the sounds of the lynxes and their admirers had faded fully, they were in the very heart of the dark woodland. They seemed to be alone now; everything was much quieter, not even the sound of a mouse.

Nightfang looked around. "I think we should wait here. We'll be able to hear anyone coming a fox-length away."

The words barely escaped from his mouth when Graytail emerged from behind a cedar tree right ahead of them. Even by the feeble light of the two tail-wands, Nightfang could see that a very great change had come over the Siberian mix. He no longer looked cheerful; there was no more spring in his step. He looked very strained and anxious.

"Who's that?" he asked, blinking down at them, trying to make out their faces. When he saw the Golden Trio, he asked, "What are you three doing here all alone?"

They looked at one another, surprised before Redstone spoke, "Well...there's some sort of riot going on."

Graytail stared at him. "What?"

"At the campsite," Redstone went on. "Some cats captured a kittypet family."

"Damn them!" Graytail swore loudly, looking quite sidetracked. And without another word, he Disapparated with a small pop.

"Not exactly on top of things, is he?" Fawnwillow mewed, frowning.

"He was a great Thrasher, though," Redstone replied, leading the way off the path into a small clearing and sitting down under a tree. "The Baltimore Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them."

He took his small figurine of Earthclaw from his bag, set it down on the ground, and watched it walk around in the grass. Like the real Earthclaw, the model had splayed paws and very broad shoulders, but he looked much less impressive on the ground than in the air. But Nightfang had no time to watch the toy march around.

Instead, he was listening for noise from the campsite, his ears twitching. Everything seemed quiet; perhaps the riot was over.

"I hope the others are okay," Fawnwillow mewed after a while.

Redstone nudged her shoulder affectionately. "Don't worry; they'll be fine."

"Imagine if your dad catches Blizzardclaw," Nightfang meowed, sitting next to his friends and watching the small figure of Earthclaw stalking over the fallen leaves. "He's always said he'd like to catch him in something. He said it before our second year."

"That'd wipe the smirk off Iceheart's rat-face, all right," Redstone replied.

Fawnwillow looked worried. "What about those poor kittypets? What if they can't get them down?"

Once again, Redstone reassured her. "They will. They'll find a way."

"But still, it's strange to do something like that when the whole Government's out here tonight!" Fawnwillow hissed, sinking her claws into the stump she was sitting on. "I mean, how could they expect to get away with it? Do you think they were drinking, or are they just-?"

But she broke off abruptly and looked over her shoulder, the toms looking quickly around too. It sounded like someone was staggering toward their clearing, injured. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven pawsteps behind the dark trees. But suddenly, the steps came to a sudden halt.

"Hello?" Nightfang called.

Nothing spoke. So Nightfang stood up on his paws and peered around the tree. It was too dark to see very far, but he could scent a cat standing just beyond the range of his vision.

"Who's there?" he called.

Without warning, the silence was torn by a voice unlike any they had heard in the woodland. And it uttered not a panicked shout...but what sounded like a spell.

_"__MORSMORDRE!"_

And something huge, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Nightfang's eyes had been fighting to pierce. It flew up over the treetops and into the sky. Redstone let out a yelp and sprang up again, staring up at the thing that had appeared.

For a second, Nightfang thought it was a green Canadian beaver formation. Then he realized that it was a massive skull, containing what looked like bright green stars, with a snake sticking out from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher into the air, scorching in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the forest erupted with frightened screams and roars. Nightfang didn't understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden arrival of the skull, which had now risen high to light up the entire forest like some gruesome neon sign. He scanned the darkness to find the cat who had fabricated the skull, but he couldn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" he called again.

"Nightfang, what're you doing? Move!" Fawnwillow had grabbed his tail and was tugging him backward.

Nightfang around to her, startled to see her so terrified. "What's wrong?"

Fawnwillow pulled him back more and rasped, "It's the Dark Mark! That's You-Know-Who's sign!"

"Red Helmet's sign?"

"Nightfang! Let's go!"

Nightfang turned around while Redstone picked up his miniature Earthclaw. Then the three of them started across the clearing, but before they had taken a few hurried steps, lots popping noises announced the arrival of twenty cats appearing from thin air, surrounding them. They ranged from plain cats to ocelots to tigers.

The young Maine Coon mix whirled around, and in an instant, he registered one fact. Each of these warrior cats were holding their tail-wands up, and every tail-wand was pointing right at the Golden Trio. Without pausing to think, he yowled, "DUCK!", seized the other two, and pulled them down onto the ground.

_"__STUPEFY!"_ roared twenty voices.

There was a blinding series of flashes, and Nightfang felt his head fur ripple as if a powerful gale had swept the clearing. Raising his head a bit, he saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the tail-wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, and rebounding into the darkness.

"STOP!" a voice he knew screeched. "STOP! THAT'S MY SON!"

Nightfang's head fur stopped blowing about as he looked up a little higher. The warrior cat in front of him had lowered his tail-wand. He rolled over and saw Weaseltail bounding towards them, looking terrified.

His voice shaky, he asked, "You three...are you okay?"

"Out of the way, Weaseltail," a cold curt voice hissed.

It was Crouchfoot. He and the other Government cats were closing in on them as Nightfang rose to his paws to face them. The brown tabby tom's face was taut with rage and his sharp eyes darted between them as he snapped, "Which one of you did it? Which one of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" Nightfang protested, flicking his tail up at the skull.

"Yeah! And we didn't do anything!" Redstone added, who was licking a foreleg and looking huffily at his father. "What'd you wanna attack us for?"

"Do not lie, sir!" Crouchfoot snarled, his tail-wand still pointing at Redstone. His eyes were now bulging, and he looked slightly frenzied. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime! You know what you did!"

"Crouchfoot," a tigress spoke up. "They're just kids. They'd never be able to do that."

Weaseltail nodded before turning back to the Golden Trio. "Where did the Mark come from, you three?"

"Over there," Fawnwillow mewled shakily, pointing her paw to the place where they heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees. They shouted words...a spell..."

"Oh, did they?" Crouchfoot growled, turning his eyes on the tabby she-cat now, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said a spell, did they? You seem _very_ informed about how the Dark Mark is summoned, missy."

But none of the Government warriors (except for Crouchfoot) seemed to think it was the Golden Trio who conjured the skull. In contrast, at Fawnwillow's words, they had all raised their tail-wands again and looked in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

"We're too late," the Indian tigress groaned, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated."

"I don't think so," a familiar tabby meowed; it was Palefur Diggory, Oakheart's father. "Our Stunners went right through those trees. There's a good chance we got them."

"Be careful!" an ocelot hissed warningly as Palefur squared his shoulders, raised his tail-wand, marched across the clearing, and vanished into the darkness. Fawnwillow watched him vanish, her claws sinking into the ground. A few heartbeats later, they heard Palefur yowl.

"We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's...but...StarClan almighty..."

Crouchfoot yowled, sounding very disbelieving, "You've got someone? Well, who is it?"

They heard snapping twigs, rustling leaves, and then crunching pawsteps as Palefur reemerged from the bushes, carrying a tiny limp figure in his jaws. Nightfang quickly recognized the tea towel at once. It was Twinkies. Her huge brown eyes were closed, and her tail was waving sadly as she was carried in the jaws of the tabby tom.

Crouchfoot did not speak or move as Palefur dropped his lemur on the ground at his paws. The other Government warriors were all staring at him, waiting for him to say something. For a few seconds, Crouchfoot remained spellbound, his eyes blazing as he stared down at Twinkies. Finally...he appeared to come to life again.

"This...cannot be," he rasped fitfully. "No..." So he moved quickly around Palefur and strode off toward the place where he had found his mouse lemur.

"No point now, Mr. Crouch," Palefur called after him. "There's no one else there."

But the Devon Rex did not seem prepared to take his word for it. They could hear him moving around and the rustling of leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, searching frantically.

Palefur looked grimly down at Twinkies' unconscious body. "Embarrassing...the house-lemur of Crouchfoot Crouch...I mean to say..."

"You don't seriously think it was the lemur?" Weaseltail asked. "The Dark Mark's a spell only a warrior cat can make. It requires a tail-wand."

"Yeah," Palefur snorted. "And she HAD a tail-wand."

"What?"

The California Spangled Cat pawed a tail-wand out from behind him and nudged it to the ginger tom. "Had it in her hand. That's section three of the Code of Tail-Wand Use broken, for a start. _No non-feline animal is allowed to carry or use a tail-wand._"

At that moment, there was another pop as Graytail Apparated next to Weaseltail. Looking out of breath and dazed, he spun on the spot, gawking up at the emerald-green skull.

"The Dark Mark!" he panted, almost stepping on Twinkies as he turned curiously to his equals. "Who did it? Did you get them? What's going on, Crouchfoot?"

Crouchfoot had returned with nothing. His face was still looking shocked and his tail and fur were both bristling.

Graytail gazed at him. "Where'd you go, Crouchfoot? Why weren't you at the match with us all? Your lemur was saving you a seat too...StarClan's paws!" The gray tom had just seen Twinkies lying at his paws. "What happened to her?"

"I was busy," Crouchfoot replied, still talking in the same fitful fashion. "And my lemur has been Stunned."

"Stunned? By you lot? But why?"

Understanding quickly dawned on his face as he looked up at the skull before looking down at Twinkies. Then he looked back up at Crouchfoot. "No! Twinkies? Summon the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! First off, she would need a tail-wand!"

"And she had one," Palefur meowed. "I found her holding one. If it's all right with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say."

Crouchfoot gave no sign that he heard him, but Palefur seemed to take this for his permission. So he raised his own tail-wand, pointed it down at Twinkies, and yowled, _"Ennervate!"_

Twinkies began to stir feebly. Her great brown eyes opened, and she blinked several times in a bewildered sort of way. Watched by the silent warrior cats, she raised herself precariously into a sitting position.

She caught sight of Palefur's paws and slowly, shakily, raised her eyes to stare up into his face. Then, more slowly still, she looked up into the black sky. Nightfang could see the floating skull reflected twice in her huge glassy eyes. Twinkies gave a gasp, looked wildly around the crowded clearing, and burst into scared sobs.

"Lemur!" Palefur snapped sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Section for the Ruling and Control of Other Animals!"

At this, Twinkies began to rock back and forth on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Nightfang was reminded strongly of Bobby in his moments of terrified defiance two years ago. It was like seeing the same thing all over again.

Palefur went on, sounding even less kind, "As you can see here, lemur, the Dark Mark had been summoned here a short while ago. And you were discovered moments later beneath it! Explain yourself immediately!"

"I-I-I is not doing it, sir!" Twinkies gulped. "I is not knowing how to do it, sir!"

"You were found with a tail-wand in your hand!" Palefur snarled, pinning her down with one paw. As the tail-wand rolled to the side and caught the green light filling the clearing from the skull, Nightfang recognized it.

"Hey, that's mine!" he yowled.

Every cat in the clearing looked over at him.

"Excuse me?" Palefur asked in disbelief, letting Twinkies get up.

Nightfang looked up. "It's my tail-wand. I dropped it!"

Palefur glared at him. "You dropped it? Is this a confession you're saying? You threw it aside after you summoned the Mark?"

"Palefur, that's enough! Think who you're talking to!" Weaseltail snarled angrily. "Is _Nightfang Potter _likely to summon the Dark Mark?"

"Er...of course not," Palefur mewed, shuffling his forepaws. "Sorry, young Nightfang. I just got carried away for a moment."

"I didn't drop it there," Nightfang meowed, pointing to the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it just after we got into the woods."

Palefur nodded, his gray eyes hardening as he turned to look at Twinkies cowering at his paws. "So you found this tail-wand, eh, lemur? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, eh?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" Twinkies squealed, tears flowing down the sides of her nose. "I is...just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how to do it!"

"It wasn't her!" Fawnwillow spoke up, stepping forth. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all these cats, yet she looked determined all the same. "Twinkies has a squeaky voice, and the voice we heard doing the spell was deeper!" The light tabby Angora mix looked over at Nightfang and Redstone, pleading for their support. "It didn't sound like Twinkies, did it?"

"No," Nightfang agreed, shaking his head. "It really was no lemur."

Redstone nodded. "Yeah. That was a cat."

"Well, we'll see," Palefur growled, looking very blasé. "There's a way of discovering the last spell a tail-wand did, lemur. Did you even know that?"

Twinkies trembled and shook her head frantically as her ears flapped, making Fawnwillow look at her in a concerned way. Just then, Palefur raised his own tail-wand again and placed it tip to tip with Nightfang's tail-wand.

_"__Prior Incantato!"_ he yowled.

Nightfang heard Fawnwillow gasp, shocked, as a huge snake-tongued skull broke out from the point where the two tail-wands met, but it was just merely a shadow of the green skull high in the sky. It looked as if it was made of thick gray smoke: the ghost of a spell.

_"__Deletrius!"_ Palefur shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke. Then he glared down in savage triumph upon Twinkies, who was still shaking convulsively.

"I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes rolling in terror. "I is not...I is not...I is not knowing how! I is a good lemur! I isn't using tail-wands! I isn't knowing how!"

Palefur pinned her down with one paw again. "You've been caught red-handed, lemur! Caught with the guilty tail-wand in your hand! You shall be punished for this!"

"Let her go!" Weaseltail yowled. As the tabby tom did so, the American Shorthair went on, "Just think about it. Very few warrior cats know how to do that spell. Where would she have learned it if she actually knew it?"

With cold anger in every syllable, Crouchfoot hissed, "Perhaps Palefur is suggesting that I habitually teach my servants to summon the Dark Mark?"

There was a deeply unpleasant silence. Palefur looked ashamed as he mewled, "Mr. Crouch, sir...n-not at all..."

"You have come close to accusing two cats very least likely to conjure that Mark!" Crouchfoot snarled. "Nightfang Potter...and me! I suppose you know the boy's story?"

"Of course...everyone knows..." the California Spangled Cat mewed, looking very ill at ease.

Crouchfoot went on, his eyes bulging again, "And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career of service, that I loathe the Dark Arts and those who practice them?"

Now Palefur was looking very embarrassed. "Mr. Crouch, I-I never suggested you had anything to do with it!"

"If you accuse my lemur, then you accuse me!" Crouchfoot snapped. "Where else would she have learned to conjure it up?"

"She...might've picked it up from any place..." Palefur muttered.

Weaseltail nodded. "That's right. She might've picked it up anywhere. Twinkies?" he asked the lemur kindly, but she flinched as if he too was yelling at her. "Where exactly did you find Nightfang's tail-wand?"

"I is...finding it there, sir..." Twinkies whimpered, twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers. "There...in the trees, sir."

"You see, Palefur?" Weaseltail meowed, turning back to Palefur. "Whoever fabricated the Mark could have Disapparated right after they did it, leaving Nightfang's tail-wand behind. A crafty thing to do, not using their own tail-wand; that could have betrayed them. And Twinkies here had the bad luck to come across the tail-wand moments later and pick it up."

"But that means she was only a few fox-lengths away from the real culprit!" Palefur meowed impatiently. Turning back to Twinkies, he barked, "Did you see anyone, lemur?!"

Twinkies began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant brown eyes flickered from Palefur, to Graytail, and to Crouchfoot. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir...no one..."

"I am fully cognizant that, in the course of events tonight, you would wish to take Twinkies into your department for questioning," Crouchfoot meowed curtly. "I ask you, however, to not do so. I am her master, so please allow me to deal with her."

Palefur looked like he didn't think much of this at all, but Nightfang saw that Crouchfoot was such an important Government cat that he did not dare refuse him. As if hearing an argument, Crouchfoot added coldly, "You may rest assured that she will be punished."

"M-m-master..." Twinkies stammered. The mouse lemur was looking up at him, her big eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please..."

Crouchfoot looked down at her, his face somehow whetted, each line on it more deeply etched. There was no pity in his gaze as he began speaking.

"Twinkies has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed was possible. I told her to remain in the tent and stay there while I went to sort out the trouble at the campsite. And I find out that she disobeyed me. _This means clothes_."

At this, Twinkies threw herself at her master's paws and squealed "No, master, not! Not clothes, not clothes!"

Nightfang knew that the only way to turn a house-lemur free was to present it with fresh clothes. It was sad to see the way Twinkies clutched at her tea towel as she sobbed over her master's paws.

"But she was scared!" Fawnwillow spat angrily, glaring at Crouchfoot. "Your lemur's scared of heights, and those warriors in masks were levitating cats! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of their way! What kind of warrior are you?!"

Crouchfoot glared coldly at the light brown tabby she-cat. "I have no more use for a disobedient house-lemur. One who forgets what is due to her master and his reputation."

Then he pushed Twinkies away from him, freeing himself from contact with the mouse lemur, He was eying her as if she was something filthy and rotten soiling his over-clean paws. Now Twinkies was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing, disturbing a pair of fishers slinking towards the stream.

There was a very nasty silence that was ended by Weaseltail, who mewed quietly, "I think I'll take the kids back to the tent, if nobody's got any objections. And Palefur, I think that tail-wand told its tale. Can you hand it back to its owner, please?"

Palefur nodded and handed Nightfang his tail-wand back. Once he got it, Nightfang slipped it onto his own tail.

"Come on, you three," Weaseltail meowed quietly. But Fawnwillow didn't seem to want to move; her amber eyes were still sadly watching Twinkies. Weaseltail called her name, so she turned and followed Nightfang and Redstone out of the clearing and off through the trees.

"What'll happen to Twinkies?" she asked just after they left the clearing.

Weaseltail shrugged. "No idea."

Fawnwillow's face was now twisting with fury. "But how dare they treat Twinkies like that! Palefur kept calling her 'lemur' all the time like she was some crook! And what about Crouchfoot? He _knew_ she didn't do it, and yet he's still gonna fire her! He didn't care how scared or upset she was; it was like she wasn't even one of us!"

"Well, she's not," Redstone tried to reassure her. "She's a lemur."

"That doesn't mean she doesn't have any feelings!" Fawnwillow spat, rounding on the ginger tom. "It's disgusting the way they-"

"I agree with you, but now is not the time to discuss the rights of lemurs," Weaseltail meowed as he nudged her on. "I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can. What happened to the others?"

Redstone replied, "We lost them in the dark. But Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing in the sky?"

His father replied tensely, "I'll explain back at the tent."

But when they reached the edge of the woods, their progress was hampered. A large crowd of scared-looking cats was congregated there, and when they saw Weaseltail coming toward them, many of them rushed forth. Many of these were normal house cats, but Nightfang saw a serval and African sand cat mixed in.

"What's going on?"

"Who conjured it?"

"Weaseltail...was it Him?"

"Of course not," Weaseltail sighed impatiently. "We don't know who it was, for it looks like they Disapparated. Now excuse me, please! We want to get some sleep!"

Then he led the Golden Trio through the crowd and back into the campsite.

All was quiet now; there was no sign of the masked warrior cats, although several ruined tents were still smoking. Clawfoot's head was poking out of the toms' tent as he called, "Dad, what the hell is going on? The twins and Leafheart got back okay, but the others..."

Weaseltail entered the tent, the Golden Trio behind him. "I've got them here."

Birdstorm was sitting at the small kitchen table, cobwebs on a forepaw, which was bleeding freely. One of Clawfoot's ears had a fresh tear in it, and Sandthorn had a clawed muzzle. The twins and Leafheart looked unhurt, though they were shaken.

"Did you get the cat making the Mark, Dad?" Birdstorm asked sharply.

"No," Weaseltail sighed. "We found Crouchfoot Crouch's lemur holding Nightfang's tail-wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually fabricated the Mark."

"What?" the three oldest cats yelped together.

Berrytail asked, "Nightfang's tail-wand, you say?"

Sandthorn pricked his ears up, sounding stunned. "You mean Mr. Crouch's house-lemur?"

With some assistance from the Golden Trio, their father explained what had happened in the woods. When they finished their story, Sandthorn puffed his chest out indignantly.

"Well, Mr. Crouch is right to get rid of a lemur like that!" he sniffed haughtily. "Running away when he specifically told her not to...and embarrassing him in front of the whole Government! She should be ashamed and be brought up in front of the Section for the Ruling and Control!"

"She didn't do anything! She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Fawnwillow swiftly snapped at Sandthorn, who looked very stunned. She had usually gotten along well with him, a bit better than any of the others.

Sandthorn recovered himself, glaring at her pompously. "Fawnwillow, a warrior in Mr. Crouch's position cannot afford a house-lemur who decides to run amok with a tail-wand!"

Fawnwillow snapped back, "She didn't run amok or decide to, you fox-hearted bastard! She just picked it up off the ground! Say that again, and I'll give you some new scars on your muzzle!"

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" Redstone asked impatiently, putting an end to the arguing. "It wasn't hurting anyone! Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol," Fawnwillow meowed before anyone else could answer. "I read about it all in _The Rise and Fall of Dark Arts_."

"And it hasn't been seen for nearly thirteen years," Weaseltail mewed quietly. "Of course the cats out there panicked, Redstone. It was almost like seeing You-Know-Who in the flesh again."

Redstone tilted his head to one side, frowning. "I don't get it. I mean...it's still only a shape in the sky."

Weaseltail sighed. "You-Know-Who and his cohorts sent the Dark Mark into the sky whenever they commit murder. The terror it inspired in the hearts of many...you have no idea; you're too young to learn it all now. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark suspended over your house and knowing what you'll find inside..." He winced. "Everyone's worst fear...the very worst."

There was silence for a moment. Then Birdstorm, removing the cobwebs to check his wounded leg, meowed, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever summoned it. I mean, it scared the Demon Cats away when they saw it. They all Disapparated before we got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Swansons before they hit the ground, thank StarClan. They're having their memories altered right now."

"Demon Cats?" Nightfang asked.

"You-Know-Who's supporters. It's what they called themselves," Birdstorm replied. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight...well, the ones who stayed away from Alcatraz, anyways."

"We can't prove it was them," Weaseltail replied. Then he added bleakly, "Though it probably was."

"Yeah, I bet it was!" Redstone yelped right away. "Dad, we saw Iceheart Malfoy in the woods, and he nearly told us his dad was one of those mouse-hearts in masks! And we all know that the Malfoys were the closest followers of You-Know-Who!"

Nightfang had just started saying "What were Red Helmet's-" when everybody. Like most cats of the warrior world, the Weasley cats always avoided saying Red Helmet's name.

"Sorry," Nightfang apologized. "Anyways, what were his supporters up to, levitating kittypets? I mean, what was the point?"

"The point?" Weaseltail laughed in a hollow way. "That was their idea of fun. Half the kittypet murders back when You-Know-Who was in power were done just for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that they're still at large. Must be a nice little reunion for them," he finished with disgust.

"But if they were Demon Cats, then why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" Redstone asked. "Wouldn't they be pleased to see it?"

Birdstorm looked over at him. "Think a little. If they really were Demon Cats, they worked hard to keep out of Alcatraz when You-Know-Who lost power and told lies about him forcing them to kill and torture cats. I bet they'll be even more scared than the rest of us if they see him return. They denied they were ever involved with him when he lost his powers and went back to their lives. _I_ don't think he'll be pleased with them."

"So whoever raised the Dark Mark...were they doing it to show support for the Demon Cats...or to scare them away?" Fawnwillow guessed.

Weaseltail shrugged. "Fawnwillow, your guess is as good as ours. But I'll tell you what: it was only the Demon Cats who ever knew how to summon it. I'd be surprised if the cats who did it wasn't a Demon Cat once, even if they're not now." He looked around and meowed, "Look, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened, she'll be worried sick for you. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try to get an early Portkey back home."

So Nightfang went back to his bunk nest, his head buzzing. He knew he should feel exhausted; it was nearly three in the morning, but he felt wide-awake. Wide awake...and worried.

Three days ago (it felt longer, but it was only three days) he had woken up with his scar burning. And tonight, for the first time in years, Red Helmet's mark had appeared in the sky. What did this mean? He thought of the letter he wrote to Padfoot before leaving Evergreen Terrace. Had Padfoot gotten it yet? When would he reply?

The British Shorthair mix looked up at the canvas, but no flying fantasies came to him this time, and it was a long time after the snores of Clawfoot filled the tent that he finally snoozed off. No good dreams came from that night of sleep, but sleep and Nightfang found together at last.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: That's a lot of drama for one night, wouldn't you say? After the next chapter, they'll all be heading back to the Forest! And by the way, I think I should try and upload Avatar Mystery Dungeon sometime.**

**So anyways, read and review, folks! Those who do will get a virtual plush doll of Twinkies. The poor lemur needs a mother-freakin' hug! Anyone who doesn't know what a mouse lemur is, watch Madagascar and you'll see Mort. He's a mouse lemur. Back to what I was saying...flames won't be allowed on here or they'll become marshmallow roasters. But I DO allow advice and constructive criticism.**

**And remember, if I'm not on here, it means I'm either busy or the power will be out.**

**See ya next time!**


	10. Chaos At The Government

**AvatarCat12: Hey again, folks! I've decided to try and upload some stories since there's nothing much to do here for now. But next week, my mom's gonna try and book a flight for the both of us to Pennsylvania. She's going up there for a high school reunion, and I'm going with her to spend a few months up there.**

**Ten chapters already! It's quite a bit since they're not at the Forest yet. Soon, Harry and his friends will come to the commentating room and join in the chat once again. You all excited to see them again? Good!**

**Sorry for the delay, folks! Let's get to the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: Remember, folks. I don't own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own both series.**

**Uploading Date: September 8, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Chaos At The Government**_

Weaseltail woke them after only a few hours' sleep. He used magic to pack up the tents, and they left the campground as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Swanson at the door of his small house. The kittypet had an odd dazed look about him, and he waved them off with a vague "Happy Labor Day."

"He'll be okay," Weaseltail meowed quietly as they marched off onto the upland. "Sometimes, when a cat's memory gets altered, it makes him a bit dazed for a bit...and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."

They heard urgent voices as they approached the spot where the Portkeys laid, and when they reached it, they found lots cats gathered around Woodleap, the Portkey keeper, all appealing to get away from the campground as soon as possible. Weaseltail had a quick chat with Woodleap; they joined the line and were able to take an old tire back to Stoat Hill before the sun had risen.

They ambled back through Gustavus and up the wooded path to the Tunnels in the dawn light, not talking because they were so exhausted and thinking of breakfast. A few wolves spotted the cats, but the canines did not bother them as they ambled past. As they rounded the corner and the Tunnels came into view, a cry echoed along the path.

"Weaseltail! Thank StarClan!"

Hollywhisker, who had been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, her face pale and strained. Samantha was also hurrying towards them, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Warrior clutched in her hand.

"Weaseltail...I've been so worried...so worried..."

As she flew at her mate and hugged him, Samantha came towards the younger cats, the Daily Prophet falling out of her hand to the ground. Looking down, Nightfang could see the headline: SCENES OF HORROR AT THE AIRBALL WORLD TROPHY, complete with a sparkling black-and-white photo of the Dark Mark over the canopies.

Hollywhisker backed away and stared around and all the other cats with bloodshot eyes. "You're all right...you're alive...oh boys..."

And to everybody's surprise, she seized the twins and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

"Ow! Mom...you're strangling us..."

"I yelled at you before you left!" Hollywhisker exclaimed, starting to sob. "I'm so sorry! It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough OW.L.s? Oh you two..."

"Come on; we're all perfectly okay," Weaseltail mewed soothingly, prying her off the twins and leading her back to the house. In a low undertone, he added, "Birdstorm, could you pick up the paper, please? I want to see what it says."

When they were all in the tiny kitchen, Fawnwillow had helped Samantha make Hollywhisker a cup of soothing hot chocolate, into which Weaseltail insisted on pouring a shot of Old Wine into it. Across from the table, Birdstorm handed his father the newspaper. The gray-patched ginger tom scanned the front page while Sandthorn peered over his shoulder.

After reading it, Weaseltail huffed, "I knew it. _Government errors...culprits not arrested...lax security...Dark warriors running free...national dishonor..._who wrote this? Ah...Tansy Skeeter."

"That cat's got it in for the Government!" Sandthorn hissed furiously. "This past quarter-moon, she was saying we're wasting our time splitting hairs about pot thickness, when we should be out there killing wolves! As if it wasn't exactly stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Feline Animals..."

"Do us a favor and shut up," Birdstorm yawned.

"I'm mentioned," Weaseltail meowed, his blue eyes widening as he reached the bottom of the article.

Hollywhisker spat out some hot chocolate and wine mixture by accident. "Where? If I had only seen that, I'd know you were alive!"

Weaseltail replied, "Not by name. Listen to this: _'If the terrified warriors who waited eagerly for news at the woods expected hope from the Government of Warriorism, they were disappointed. A Government official emerged sometime after the arrival of the Dark Mark, claiming that nobody was hurt but refusing to give any more evidence. Whether this report will be enough to quell the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later remains to be seen.'_ That witch," Weaseltail hissed in annoyance, handing the paper to Sandthorn. "Nobody was injured. What could I say? _Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods_...well, there'll be rumors NOW since she's printed that." He heaved a sigh and got up.

"I'm going to have to go into the office, Hollywhisker. This is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll go with you, Father," Sandthorn meowed importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need an all paws-on deck. And I can give him my pot report personally." At that, he bustled out of the kitchen.

Hollywhisker looked even more upset. "But I thought you were supposed to be on vacation! This hasn't got anything to do with your office. Can't they handle this without you?"

Weaseltail shook his head. "But I have to go. I've just made things worse. I'll just groom myself and then I'll be off."

"Mrs. Weasley," Nightfang spoke up, suddenly unable to contain himself, "Did Katara come over with a letter for me?"

"What was that, dear?" Hollywhisker meowed distractedly. "No...no, there hasn't been any mail at all yet."

Redstone and Fawnwillow looked curiously at Nightfang, who gave them a meaningful look. Then the black cat meowed, "Hey Redstone. Mind if I put my stuff in your room?"

"Sure. I'll come too," Redstone replied at once. "Wanna come along, Fawnwillow?"

"Yeah, sure," Fawnwillow answered quickly, and the three of them trailed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

They padded up the stairs until they arrived at the attic. As soon as they closed the door to there, Redstone asked, "So Nightfang...what's up?"

"There's something I haven't told you yet," Nightfang meowed. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

His friends' reactions were almost just as Nightfang visualized them back at Evergreen Terrace. Fawnwillow gasped and started making plans right away, mentioning reference books and cats from Silverstar to Poppyleaf Pomfrey, the medicine cat of the Forest. Redstone just looked very surprised and confused.

"But...You-Know-Who can't be near you right now, can he?" the American Shorthair asked. "I mean...you'd know, right? He'll be at Wrangell Island, right?"

"I'm sure he wasn't there," Nightfang replied. "Bears don't go into a neighborhood unless food's nearby. But anyways, I was dreaming about him and Wormtail. I can't remember all of it, but they were plotting to murder...a cat."

He had teetered for a moment on the verge of saying "me," for he knew this was true. But he decided against it; he couldn't bring himself to make Fawnwillow more horrified than she already was.

Redstone nodded bracingly. "It was only a dream...just a nightmare."

Nightfang looked out of the window at the lightening sky. "Yeah, but was it? It's weird, huh? My scar hurts, and three days later, the Demon Cats are on the prowl, and Red Helmet's sign is up in the sky again."

"Don't say his name!" Redstone hissed through gritted teeth.

"Remember what Mistbright told me?" Nightfang went on, ignoring the ginger tom. Recalling Mistbright Trelawney, the Divination mentor, he added, "At the end of last year?"

Fawnwillow's petrified look vanished as she let out a scathing snort. "Seriously? Why would you pay attention to anything that old fake says?"

Nightfang shook his head. "You weren't there, Fawnwillow. You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance...a real one. And she said the Dark Bear would rise up again, greater and more terrible than ever, and he'd do it because his faithful servant was going to go back to him...and that night, Wormtail escaped."

There was a silence in which Redstone fidgeted vaguely with a hole in his Alabama Gators quilt. Nightfang knew this was because he was still feeling guilty about thinking that the traitor was disguised as his pet mouse.

"Why were you asking if Katara arrived?" Fawnwillow asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"

"I told Padfoot about my scar," Nightfang answered, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good!" Redstone purred, his face clearing. "I bet he'll know what to do!"

Nightfang shrugged. "I was hoping he'd write back sooner."

"Yeah...but remember, we don't know where he's at," Fawnwillow reasoned. "He could be in South America or somewhere for all we know. Katara can't manage that journey in a few days."

"I know," Nightfang meowed. But there was a weighty feeling in his belly as he looked out of the window at the sky that did not have his beloved pet owl.

Redstone saw that look, for he meowed, "Come and have a game of AirBall near the lake. Three on three. Birdstorm, Clawfoot, and the twins will play. You can try out the Wronski Feint."

Fawnwillow frowned at him. "I don't think Nightfang wants to play right now. He's worried and tired...and so are we all. We all need to get some sleep."

Nightfang wanted to clear his mind, so he replied, "No, it's all right. I'll play. Hang on, I'll get my Thunderbolt."

The Angora mix left the room, muttering something that sounded like "Tomcats."

**...**

Weaseltail and Sandthorn were not at home much over the following quarter-moon. Both left the house every sunrise before the rest of the family got up and returned after dinner every night.

"It's been a complete uproar," Sandthorn told them importantly the Sunday evening before they were to return to the Forest. "I've been putting out fires all quarter-moon. Cats keep sending us lots of Yowlers, and of course, if you don't open it straight away, it bursts into flames. Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to ashes."

"Why are they all sending Yowlers?" Leafheart asked. She was mending her One Thousand Magical Herbs book with Spell-tape on the rug in front of the living room fire.

Sandthorn replied, "Complaining about security at the World Trophy. They want payment for the ruined property. Dung Fletcher's put in a claim for a twelve-roomed tent with en-suite hot tub, but I got his number. I know he was sleeping under a twig shelter with a cape covering it."

Hollywhisker glanced over at the grandfather clock in the corner. Nightfang liked this clock; it was useless if another cat wanted to know the time, but otherwise, it was very educational.

It had nine golden hands, and each of them was engraved with one of the Weasley cat's names. There were not numerals around the face but descriptions of where each family member might be. "Home," "school," and "work" were there, but there was also "traveling," "lost," "vet," "jail," and, in the position where the number twelve would be on a normal clock, "mortal peril." Eight of the hands were now pointing to "home", but Weaseltail's, which was the longest, was still pointing to "work."

Hollywhisker sighed. "Your father couldn't go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who. They're working him too hard. His dinner will be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

"Well, Father will make up for his mistake at the match," Sandthorn sniffed. "If truth be told, he was foolish to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first..."

"Don't blame your father for what that witch wrote!" Hollywhisker hissed, flaring up at once.

"I agree with you, Mom, but if Dad hadn't said anything about it, old Tansy would've just said it was shameful that nobody from the Government had stated," Birdstorm meowed while playing chess with Redstone. "Then again, Tansy never makes anyone look good. You remember when she questioned all of Liverpool's Charm Breakers and called me a 'longhaired civet'?"

The plump ginger tabby gave her oldest son a fond look. "Well, it _is_ a bit long, dear...if you'd just let me-"

"_No_, Mom."

**...**

Rain lashed against the living room window, and the cats had nothing much to do. Fawnwillow was occupied with The Book of Spells Grade 4, copies of which Hollywhisker bought for her and the Golden Trio in Dragon Alley. Clawfoot was helping Samantha sew a fireproof balaclava. Nightfang was polishing his Thunderbolt, the wing servicing kit Fawnwillow got for him for his thirteenth birthday open at his paws. And the twins were sitting in a far corner, talking in low whispers and their heads bent over a piece of scroll.

"What are you two up to?" their mother asked sharply, her eyes on the twins.

"Homework," Berrytail muttered vaguely.

Hollywhisker's amber eyes narrowed. "Don't be ridiculous. You're still on vacation."

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," Cherrynose replied.

"You're not writing out a new order form, are you?" she asked astutely. "Are you thinking of restarting Weasleys' Warrior Wheezes?"

Berrytail looked at her, a pained look on his face. "Mum...if the Forest train crashed tomorrow, and Cherrynose and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we heard from you was an unproven charge?"

Everyone laughed at that joke, even Hollywhisker. Sandthorn did not laugh at all, though there was a very slight chance of him either smiling or smirking.

"Oh, your father's coming!" Hollywhisker called suddenly, looking up at the clock again.

Weaseltail's clock hand had suddenly spun from "work" to "traveling". A second later, it had shaken to a halt on "home" with the others, and they heard him yowling from the kitchen. This made Hollywhisker hurry out of the room, Samantha hurrying after her.

Moments later, Weaseltail came into the warm living room, Samantha carrying a bowl full of cat food. He looked completely exhausted as he laid down on the floor near the fireplace and pawed coolly with his somewhat cold chow.

"Well, the fat's in the fire now," he told Hollywhisker. "Tansy's been scrambling around all the past quarter-moon, looking for more Government messes to inform. And now she's found out about poor old Wetnose going missing, so that'll be the front-page in the Warrior tomorrow. I told Graytail he should've sent someone to look for her days ago."

"Mr. Crouch has been saying it for a moon or so," Sandthorn spoke up swiftly.

Weaseltail just sighed irritably. "Crouchfoot is lucky Tansy hasn't found out about Twinkies. It'd be a quarter-moon of headlines in his lemur being caught holding the tail-wand that fabricated the Dark Mark."

Sandthorn growled hotly, "I thought we agreed that the lemur, while childish and irresponsible, did not conjure the Mark?"

Fawnwillow added angrily, "If you ask me, Crouchfoot is lucky no one at the Daily Warrior knows how heartless he is to lemurs!"

"Look here!" Sandthorn growled, holding his nose in the air. "A prominent Government official like Mr. Crouch deserves unwavering obedience from his servants-"

"Not his servant! She was his _slave_!" Fawnwillow hissed, her voice rising avidly. "Because he didn't pay Twinkies, now did he?"

"I think you all should go upstairs and see if you've packed up!" Hollywhisker piped up, breaking up the argument. "Come on now, all of you."

Nightfang repacked his wing servicing kit, put his Thunderbolt on his back, and went upstairs with Redstone. The rain sounded even louder at the top of the house, escorted by loud whistling and moans from the wind, not to mention random howls from the Bigfoot who lived in the attic. Sheepinton began twittering and zooming around his cage when they entered. The sight of the half-packed suitcases seemed to have sent him into a state of excitement.

"Give him some Owl Treats," Redstone mewed, throwing a box of them to Nightfang. "That'll shut him up."

So Nightfang poked a few Owl Treats through the bars of Sheepinton's cage, then he turned to his trunk. Katara's cage stood next to it, still empty and lifeless.

"It's been over a quarter-moon already," the British Shorthair mix sighed, looking at Katara's deserted roost. "Redstone, you think Padfoot got caught?"

"Nah, it'd be in the Daily Warrior by now," Redstone replied. "The Government would want to show they caught someone."

Nightfang nodded, looking out the window. He hoped Padfoot would hurry up and send him an answer as quickly as possible.

Seeing the look on his friend's face, Redstone meowed, "Hey, here's the stuff Mom got for you at Dragon Alley. And she's got some gold out of your vault for you...and Samantha washed your collar."

He heaved a pile of packages onto Nightfang's makeshift nest and dropped the money bag and a blue collar next to it, so he started opening the shopping. Besides The Book of Spells Grade 4, by Hawkeyes Goshawk, he had new quills, twelve rolls of scroll, and fill-ups for his potion-making kit; he had been running low on spine of lionfish and core of belladonna. He was just putting his collar into his pot when Redstone let out a hiss of disgust behind him.

"What's that?"

He was holding up something that looked to Nightfang like a long burgundy velvet dress. It had a moldy-looking tie frill at the collar and matching lace cuffs. There was a knock on the door, and Hollywhisker entered, carrying a backful of freshly cleaned Forest capes.

"Here you go," she meowed, sorting them into two piles. "Now make sure to pack them properly so they don't wrinkle."

Nightfang mewed his thanks while Redstone handed the dress to his mother. "Mom, you gave me Leafheart's new cat dress," the ginger tom meowed.

"Of course I haven't," Hollywhisker replied. "That's for you. It's a dress cape."

"And it matches your eyes," Nightfang added, hoping to put in some humor.

"What?!" Redstone yelped, looking horror-struck. To Nightfang, he muttered, "Shut it!"

Hollywhisker flicked her tail to the cape. "It says on your school list that you're supposed to have a dress cape for this year, a cape for formal occasions."

Leafheart, who was walking past, added, "And that's not mine. It looks ugly!"

Redstone gulped. "You gotta be kidding me! I'm not wearing that! No way!"

"Everyone wears them!" Hollywhisker sighed crossly. "They're all like that! Your father's got some for some formal parties!"

"I'll go nuts before I put that on," Redstone growled stubbornly.

"Don't be silly," Hollywhisker meowed. "You've got to have a dress cape; it's on your list! I got something like that for Nightfang too. Go on, Nightfang. Show him."

In some anxiety, Nightfang opened the last package on his makeshift nest. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, however; his cape didn't have any lace on them at all. In fact, it was likely the same as his school cape, except that it was bright green instead of jet black like his pelt.

"I thought it'd match the color of your eyes, dear," Hollywhisker meowed to him fondly.

Once again, Nightfang mewed his thanks, but Redstone hissed, "Well, that's okay! No lace and no little collar!"

"I guess yours is meant to be traditional," Nightfang replied helpfully.

"Traditional? It's ancient! I'll look like my great aunt Tessie!" Redstone sniffed his and pulled away in disgust. "I'll _smell _like my great-aunt Tessie! Why couldn't I have a cape like that?"

Flushing, Hollywhisker retorted, "Well...I had to get yours secondhand, and there wasn't a lot of choice!"

Nightfang looked away, not wanting to look either Weasley cat in the eyes. He would willingly split all the money in his Liverpool vault with the Weasley cats, but he was sure that they would never take it. He just wanted to make sure they got something in return of the kindness they had given him over the past three years.

"I'm not wearing it," Redstone was hissing stubbornly. "Never."

"Fine," Hollywhisker hissed. "If you want to, then shave your pelt while you're at it. And make sure you get a picture of him, Nightfang. StarClan knows I could use a good laugh now."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a funny choking noise from behind them, for Sheepinton was choking on an oversized Owl Treat. Redstone strode across the room to unstick the elf owl's beak before muttering this furiously:

"Why is everything I own garbage?"

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: Someone's being a bit jealous, huh? But don't worry; he's gonna get better. You see, this is what I like about Harry Potter: character development kicks in and makes some characters even better.**

**But hey, on Wildfire, I already got around 50 reviews already! That's amazing! Other than that, there's nothing going on except for a new episode of Pokémon coming on in a few minutes.**

**Read and review, everyone! Those who review this chapter will get either Nightfang or Redstone in their cat capes. I don't allow flames on this story or my other stories or I'll use them for heating up pizzas. I DO allow advice and constructive criticism, but as long as it's not harsh, it'll be fine.**

**See ya next time!**


	11. On The Forest Train

**AvatarCat12: Hey, everyone! We finally got some Internet to come back on! And boy, I wish I could tell you about what went on these past weeks. So today...Harry will return today with this commentary!**

**Harry: (Comes in) Hey, Avatar Cat! Good to see you again. How many months has it been since we've last been here?**

**AvatarCat12: Plenty of months. But it's still great to see you again, Harry! Would you like to do the honors in saying the disclaimer?**

**Harry: Sure.**

**Disclaimer: AvatarCat12 does not own my series or Warrior Cats. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own them both respectively.**

**Uploading Date: October 23, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**On The Forest Train**_

There was a sure end-of-vacation gloom in the air when Nightfang woke up the next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as he got finished grooming himself; they would change into their school capes on the Forest train. The Maine Coon mix brushed at his face with his paws, trying to get rid of the sleep in his eyes.

He, Redstone, and the twins had just reached the first-floor on their way down to breakfast when Hollywhisker appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed. Nightfang wondered what had just happened.

"Weaseltail!" she called up the staircase. "Crucial message from the Government!"

Nightfang flattened himself against the wall as Weaseltail came leaping past, his ginger pelt a bit messy as he hustled out of sight. When the younger cats entered the kitchen, they could just see Hollywhisker delving anxiously in the drawers and Weaseltail bending over the fire, talking to something that made Nightfang shut his eyes hard and open them again to make sure they were working properly.

Palefur Diggory's head was sitting in the middle of the fire like the head of a cat statue. It was talking very fast, completely untroubled by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking at its ears.

"...Twoleg heard bangs and yowling, so they went and called those...please-men. You've got to get over there, Weaseltail."

"Here!" Hollywhisker meowed to her mate breathlessly, pushing a piece of paper, a bottle of ink, and a quill into Weaseltail's paws.

"...it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," continued Palefur's head. "I had to come into the office early to send a few owls, and I found the Wrong Use of Magic lot all setting off...but if Tansy Skeeter gets a hold of this one..."

Weaseltail opened the ink bottle, loaded up the quill, and prepared to take some notes. "What does Mad-Eye say happened?" the American Shorthair asked.

Palefur's head rolled its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his backyard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but he was ambushed by his owner's rottweilers."

"What did they do?" Weaseltail asked, writing agitatedly.

"Made one hell of a noise, as far as I can tell," Palefur meowed. "It seemed one of them was still yelping when the please-men turned up..."

Weaseltail groaned. "And what about the intruder?"

Palefur's head rolled its eyes again. "You know Mad-Eye. Someone creeping into his backyard at moonhigh? More likely there's a very scared ferret wandering around somewhere, covered in crowfood. But if the Wrong Use of Magic cats get their paws on Mad-Eye, he's had it, think of his record. We've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department. What are rottweilers worth to Twolegs?"

"Might be a caution," Weaseltail mewed, still writing very fast. "Mad-Eye didn't use his tail-wand? He didn't attack anyone?"

"Maybe he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," Palefur replied. "They'll have a job proving it, but there aren't any losses."

Weaseltail stuffed the notes into a bag and ran out, calling over his shoulder, "All right, I'm off."

Palefur's head looked around at Hollywhisker. "Sorry about bothering you so early and stuff," it meowed calmly. "But Weaseltail's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and he's supposed to start his new job today. Why he had to choose last night..."

"Don't worry about it," Hollywhisker meowed. "Would you like some fish or anything before you go?"

"Well...all right, then."

So Hollywhisker took a large carp from a pile on the kitchen table and tossed it to the cat's head in the fire. Palefur made a lunge for it and caught it in his mouth, the entire thing save the tail in his jaws.

"Fanks," he grunted in a muffled voice and vanished with a small pop.

From upstairs, Nightfang could hear Weaseltail calling quick good-byes to Birdstorm, Clawfoot, Sandthorn, and the she-cats. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, trying to groom his tail as he ran.

"I better hurry. You have a good time at school, boys," he meowed to Nightfang, Redstone, and the twins, preparing to Disapparate. "Hollywhisker, will you be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"

"Of course I will," she meowed. "You just look after Mad-Eye. We'll be fine."

As Weaseltail vanished, the oldest Weasley kits entered the kitchen. Birdstorm yawned, "Did someone just say Mad-Eye? What's he up to now?"

Hollywhisker replied, "He says someone tried to break into his Twoleg's house last night."

"Mad-Eye Moody?" Cherrynose spoke up thoughtfully, digging into his cat food. "Isn't he that loon who-?"

"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," Hollywhisker told him sternly.

Berrytail huffed as she left the room, "Yeah, well, Dad collects batteries, right? Birds of a feather flock together."

"Be quiet, you norberts," Birdstorm meowed to the twins. "Mad-Eye was a great warrior back in his prime."

Clawfoot nodded. "Yeah. He's an old friend of Silverstar's."

"But Silverstar's also not normal, though," Berrytail protested. "I mean, yeah, he's a genius and everything, but..."

"Who's Mad-Eye Moody?" Nightfang asked.

"He's retired...used to work at the Ministry," Clawfoot explained. "I met him when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Aura Cat, one of the best." Seeing Nightfang's confused look, he added, "An Aura Cat is a cat that catches dark warriors. Half the Alcatraz cells are full thanks to him. He made loads of enemies, though; the families of cats he caught, mainly, and I heard he's been getting mistrustful in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Poor guy just sees Dark cats everywhere."

**...**

Birdstorm and Clawfoot had decided to say goodbye to everyone at King's Cross station. But Sandthorn, apologizing most richly, said that he really needed to get to work.

"I just can't explain taking more time off at the moment," he told them. "Mr. Crouch is starting to rely on me now."

"You know what?" Cherrynose replied seriously. "I think he'll know your name soon."

Hollywhisker had just used the phone in the post office to order three Twoleg taxis to take them into Juneau. Despite being cats, warriors had been known to act a bit like Twolegs, like using a phone or preparing dinner.

"Weaseltail tried to borrow some Government monsters for us," Hollywhisker told Nightfang as the cats stood in the rainy yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six heavy cases into the trunks. "But there weren't any to spare. Oh...they don't look happy, do they?"

Nightfang didn't want to tell her that Twoleg taxi drivers hardly ever transported cats or hyper owls, and Sheepinton was making a loud racket. Nor did it help that lots of fireworks went off suddenly when Berrytail's suitcase sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Garfield clawed his way up his leg. It was official: cats, owls, ferret mixes, and fireworks did not mix well in a taxi.

The journey was very rough due to all the cats being jammed in the back of the taxis with their suitcases. Garfield took quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the time they arrived at Juneau, the cats of the Golden Trio were all severely scratched. They were very thankful to get out at King's Cross, even though it was raining harder than ever, and they got waterlogged as they carried their stuff across the busy road and into the station.

Nightfang was used to getting onto platform seven and a half by now. It was simple: all a cat had to do was walk straight through the seemingly solid barrier between platforms seven and eight. The only difficult part was doing this in a way to avoid attracting Twoleg attention. They did it in groups today. The Golden Trio (the most exposed cats, since they were joined by Sheepinton and Garfield, they went first; they leaned calmly against the barrier, chatting casually, and slid sideways through it. And as they did so, platform seven and a half appeared in front of them.

The Forest Train, a gleaming ruby steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam rising from it, through which the many cats on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Sheepinton became louder than ever in response to the hooting of many other owl species within the mist. Nightfang and his friends set off to find seats and were soon storing their luggage in a booth halfway along the train. They hopped back down to the platform to say farewell to Hollywhisker, Birdstorm, and Clawfoot.

"I'll be seeing you all sooner than you think," Clawfoot chuckled with a wink as he hugged Leafheart good-bye.

"Why?" Berrytail asked keenly.

The dark gray tom smiled. "You'll see. Just don't tell Sandthorn I mentioned it; it's 'classified information, until such time as the Government sees fit to release it,' after all."

Birdstorm looked almost wistfully at the train. "Yeah...I sorta wish I was back at the Forest this year."

"Why?" Cherrynose asked impatiently.

"You'll have an interesting year," Birdstorm mewed, his blue eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off work to come over and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" Redstone now asked.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Hollywhisker urged them toward the train doors.

"Thanks for having us over, Mrs. Weasley," Fawnwillow told her as they climbed on, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything," Nightfang added.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," Hollywhisker replied, smiling a bit. "I'd invite you all over for Christmas, but...well, I'm sure you're all going to want to stay at the Forest for...one thing and another to happen."

Redstone poked his head out the window. "What do you three know that we don't?"

His mother just smiled back. "You'll find out tonight. It's going to be very exciting, but I'm very glad they've changed the rules this year."

"What rules?" all the toms asked together.

"I'm sure Silverstar will tell you. Now please behave. Won't you, Berrytail and Cherrynose?"

At that, the pistons hissed loudly, and the train began to move. As the three other cats slowly began to disappear, Berrytail yowled out the window, "Tell us what's happening at the Forest! What rules are they changing?"

But Hollywhisker only smiled and waved her tail in farewell. Before the train had rounded the corner, she and her two oldest sons had Disapparated.

Ducking their heads back in, the Golden Trio went back to their compartment. The thick Alaskan rain splattering the windows made it very hard to see outside. Redstone opened his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress cape, and flung it over Sheepinton's cage to stifle his hooting.

"Graytail wanted to tell us what's happening at the Forest," he mewed grumpily, sitting down next to Nightfang. "At the World Trophy, remember? But my own mom won't say what it is. Wonder what-"

"Shh!" Fawnwillow suddenly hissed, flicking her tail to the booth next to theirs. The two toms listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

"...Father actually considered sending me to the Mountain rather than the Forest, did you know that? He knows the leader there, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore; that cat is a filthy kittyblood-lover. And the Mountain doesn't let that sort of riffraff become one of us. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school far away from home. Father says the Mountain teaches a lot more about the Dark Arts than the Forest. Cats there actually _learn_ them, not just the defense drivel we do."

Fawnwillow got up, crept to the booth door, and slid it shut, blocking out Iceheart Malfoy's drawling voice. "So he thinks the Mountain would suit him better, does he?" she snarled angrily. "I wish he had gone there instead. Then we wouldn't have to put up with all his bullshit."

"The Mountain's another school for warriors?" Nightfang asked.

The light brown tabby Angora mix nodded. "Yeah, but it's got a horrible reputation. According to A Review of Magical Schooling in Europe, it puts a lot of stress on the Dark Arts."

"I think I've heard of it," Redstone meowed vaguely. "What country is it in?"

"Germany, but nobody else knows, do they?" Fawnwillow replied, raising her brows.

Nightfang tilted his head to one side. "Why not?"

Sensibly, Fawnwillow meowed, "There's usually been lots of rivalry between all schools for warrior cats. The Mountain and the Oasis like to conceal their location so nobody can steal their secrets."

Redstone began to laugh at that. "Aw, come on! The Mountain's gotta be about as big as the Forest! How can you hide a great big castle?"

"But the Forest _is_ hidden," Fawnwillow meowed in surprise. She sounded as if a warrior cat had never even heard of this idea. "Everyone knows that...well, everyone who's read The History Of The Forest, anyways."

"Just you, then," Redstone retorted. "So go on. How do you hide a place like the Forest?"

Fawnwillow explained, "It's bewitched. If a Twoleg from Kodiak Island looks at it, all they see is a crumbling old rock-cave with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER: DO NOT ENTER: UNSAFE."

Redstone looked impressed now. "So the Mountain will look just like a rock to a Twoleg too?"

"Maybe," the tabby she-cat meowed, shrugging. "Or it might have Twoleg-repelling charms on it like the World Trophy arena. And to keep foreign warrior cats from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable-"

"Huh?" Nightfang asked this time.

Fawnwillow rolled her eyes. "Well, you can charm a building so that it's impossible to plot on a map, right?"

Nightfang still felt confused, but he meowed, "...okay."

"But I think the Mountain must be in the far northern part of Germany," Fawnwillow meowed broodingly. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got mink fur capes for their uniforms."

"Ah, think of the possibilities," Redstone sighed dreamily. "It would've been so easy to just push Iceheart off a glacier and make it look like an accident. Pity his mom likes him."

The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther west. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were just lit by sunhigh. The lunch cart came rattling along the hall, and Nightfang bought a large stack of Zebra Cakes for all three of them to share.

Some of their friends greeted them as sunhigh went on, including Sandfur Finnigan, Ashfoot Thomas (an ash-gray American Shorthair), and Toadfall Longbottom, an extremely forgetful brown tabby Exotic Shorthair raised by his tough warrior of a grandmother. Sandfur was still wearing his Canadian rosette, but some of its magic seemed to be wearing off now. It was still squeaking "Troy! Mullet! Moran!", but in a very weak and tired sort of way.

After half an hour, Fawnwillow, growing tired of the endless AirBall talk, buried herself in The Regular Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying to learn a Calling Charm. Toadfall listened desirously to the others' talk as they relived the match at the World Trophy.

"Grandma didn't want to go," the tabby tom sighed miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded awesome, though."

"It was," Redstone told him reassuringly. "Look at this."

He dug in his bag in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figurine of Earthclaw. With that done, the ginger tom poured the figurine onto his friend's paw, making the tiny cat stare up at him.

"Wow..." Toadfall gasped enviously.

Redstone nodded proudly. "Yep. We saw him right up close too. We were in the Top Box-"

"For the first and _last_ time for you, Weasley."

Iceheart Malfoy had arrived at the door. Behind him stood Lobsterclaw Crabbe and Monkeynose Goyle, his huge dark tabby thuggish henchmen, both of whom appeared to have grown quite a bit during greenleaf. Clearly, they had overheard the talk through the booth door, which Ashfoot and Sandfur had left open. Seeing them, Toadfall left quite quickly.

"I don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," Nightfang told him calmly.

"Wait a minute, Weasley. What is that?" Iceheart meowed, pointing at Sheepinton's cage.

Nightfang turned to look at it. A bit of Redstone's dress cape was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious to see. Redstone made to stuff the cape out of sight, but Iceheart was too quick for him. He seized the sleeve by the cuff in his jaws and pulled it out.

He drawled, holding it up and showing his cronies, "Look at this!" To Redstone, he scoffed, "Weasley, are you REALLY going to wear these? I mean...they _were_ very stylish in about the early nineteen hundreds."

"Eat fox dung, Malfoy!" Redstone hissed, the same color as the cape as he snatched it back out of Iceheart's grasp. The British Shorthair just yowled with scornful laughter as he cronies chortled stupidly.

"So...going to enter, Weasley?" Iceheart sneered on. "Going to try and bring glory and honor to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know. You'll be able to afford a decent cape if you won."

Nightfang sighed and rolled his green eyes. There went that "my-family's-rich-and-you're-not" talk once again.

Redstone growled at him, "What the hell are you meowing about?"

Talking as if Redstone was a stupid cat, Iceheart repeated, "Are. You. Going. To. Enter?" Then he turned to Nightfang and sneered with dislike, "I suppose you'll want to enter, Potter? You'll once again get another chance for you to sing your own praises, huh?"

"Either tell us what you're meowing about or get lost, Malfoy," Fawnwillow retorted over the top of The Regular Book of Spells, Grade 4. But a gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face.

"Don't tell me you don't know?" the black tabby hissed delightedly. "You got a father and brother working at the Government and you don't even know about it? Great Dark Forest, my father told me about it _ages_ ago...heard it from the Governor himself. Then again, Father's always connected with the top cats at the Government. Maybe your father's too poor to know about it all, Weasley; they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him."

Scoffing again, he flicked his tail to his cronies, and the three of them left. Redstone got to his paws and slammed the sliding booth door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.

"Redstone! What is the matter with you?!" Fawnwillow hissed reprovingly. She pulled out her tail-wand and muttered _"Reparo!"_ as the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.

"Well...he was making it look like he knows everything and we don't," Redstone snarled irately. "'Father's always associated with the top cats at the Government!' Dad could've got a promotion any time, but he just likes it where he is..."

Fawnwillow laid a reassuring paw on his shoulder. "Of course he does. Don't let Iceheart get under your skin."

Redstone looked up from a Zebra Cake he was squashing to a pulp. "Him! Get under _my_ skin!? Yeah right!"

His bad mood continued for the rest of the journey, and he didn't talk much as they put on their school capes. The American Shorthair was still glowering when the train slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of the station at the Village.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder in the clouds. Fawnwillow laid Garfield on her back under her cape while Redstone left his dress cape over Sheepinton as they leapt off the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as if buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied over their heads.

"Hey Badgerstripe!" Nightfang yowled, seeing a gigantic black cat with two white stripes at the far end of the platform.

"Hey Nightfang! Doin' okay?" Badgerstripe boomed back, waving happily. "See yeh at the feast if we don't drown!"

First year cats customarily reached the castle by sailing across the bay with the gamekeeper of the Forest.

"I wouldn't like crossing the bay in this weather," Fawnwillow mewed, shivering as they shuffled slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. Toadfall padded up to them, nodding in agreement.

A hundred horseless horse-drawn carriages stood outside the station, waiting for its passengers. The Golden Trio and Toadfall climbed gratefully into one of them, and the door shut with a snap. A few moments later, the herd of horse-drawn carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward the castle of the Forest.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: We're finally picking up the pace again. You excited about the upcoming chapters, Harry?**

**Harry: Not much, since this series will be through my eyes again...as a cat, that is. But still, it's nice to see things through a cat's eyes.**

**AvatarCat12: Good to hear. (To the readers) And we've heard from Ron and Hermione, and they'll be coming back on one condition. Hermione wants to do the next one, and Ron will do the chapter after that.**

**Harry: (To the readers) And there's another thing coming up. We'll be uploading six chapters at a time, so get ready for a lot of surprises. And don't forget to review. Those who do will get virtual Butterfingers candy bars mixed with ice cream. Flames won't be allowed on here, but advice and constructive criticism are.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	12. The Tri-Warrior Tournament

**AvatarCat12: Hey, everyone! What a week it's been! First going to church, then doing a lot of other stuff like going to a parade! A Halloween one, at that!**

**Hermione: (Comes into the office) But still, it's good to keep busy at things. And it's so good to see you again, Avatar Cat!**

**AvatarCat12: (Smiles and shakes her hand) You too, Hermy...I think I'll just call you by your real name instead. That, and I'll let you say the disclaimer.**

**Hermione: I think that'll be lovely.**

**Disclaimer: AvatarCat12 has said this already. He doesn't own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats. The owners of these two are J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter respectively.**

**Uploading Date: October 23, 2012**

**Both: Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Tri-Warrior Tournament**_

Through the gates and flanked with statues of dragons, the stagecoaches trundled on, swaying riskily in what was becoming a gale. Looking out the window, Nightfang could see the castle coming nearer, its lighted windows blurry and shining behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their stagecoach came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of stone steps. Cats who rode the coaches in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

So the Golden Trio and Toadfall jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when they were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase. Redstone shook his entire pelt and sent water everywhere as Nightfang did the same, but since he was a thick-pelted cat, he got his friends wet.

"Jeez," Redstone groaned. "If that keeps up, the sea's gonna flood. I'm soak...ROWR!"

A large red water balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Redstone's head and burst. Drenched and sputtering, Redstone staggered sideways into Nightfang, just as a second water bomb dropped. Narrowly missing Fawnwillow, who leapt away, it burst at Nightfang's feet, sending a wave of cold water through the fur. Cats all around them shrieked and started pushing one another to try and get out of the line of fire.

Nightfang looked up and saw, floating above them, the Joker. He was a little black demon in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide mean face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

"JOKER!" yelled an angry voice. "Joker, get down here at ONCE!"

Thistleheart McGonagall, deputy of the Forest and head of LionClan, had come dashing out of the Great Hall. But then she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Fawnwillow around the neck to stop herself from falling. "Ouch...sorry, Miss Granger."

"It's okay!" Fawnwillow gasped, rubbing her throat.

The pale brown tabby deputy got to her paws and glared up. "Joker, come here right NOW!"

"Not doing nothing!" the Joker cackled, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year she-cat, who screamed and leapt into the Great Hall. "Already wet, eh? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second year cats who had just arrived.

"I shall call Silverstar!" Thistleheart yowled. "I'm warning you, Joker!"

The Joker stuck his tongue out, threw the last of his water balloons into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

Thistleheart sighed before turning to the bedraggled crowd. "I'm truly sorry about that. Now move along! Into the Great Hall!"

The Golden Trio slid across the entrance hall and through the doors on the right. Redstone was muttering furiously under his breath as he shook himself again.

The Great Hall looked like its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and chalices gleamed by the light of hundreds of candles, floating above the tables in the air. The four long Clan tables were packed with gossiping cats; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their apprentices. It was much warmer in here.

So the Golden Trio walked past the other Clans and sat with the rest of the LionClan cats at the far side of the Hall next to Headlesshead Nick, the ghost of LionClan. Pale and lucid, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking fancy and that his head didn't wobble much on his partially severed neck.

"Good even," he said, beaming at them.

"Says who?" Nightfang meowed, shaking his tail around. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving."

The Sorting of new apprentices into Clans took place at the start of every school year, but by unlucky circumstances, Nightfang hadn't been present at one since his own. He was looking forward to seeing new cats being Sorted. Just then, a highly excited and breathless voice called down the table.

"Hey Nightfang!"

It was Mousepaw Creevey, a third year Egyptian Mau to whom Nightfang was something of a hero. The Maine Coon mix realized that since Mousepaw was a third-year now, he must have gotten his warrior name.

"Hey," Nightfang called back warily.

Mousepaw nodded before saying, "I got my warrior name; it's Mousepelt! And guess what, Nightfang? Guess what? My brother's starting his first year here! My brother Volekit!"

Nightfang nodded. "That's great."

"He's really excited!" Mousepelt cheered, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. His speckled brown pelt bristled in joy as he went on, "I hope he's in LionClan with me! Keep your paws crossed!"

"Er...okay," Nightfang replied. He turned back to his friends and Headlesshead Nick, asking, "Do brothers and sisters usually go in the same Clans?" He was judging by the Weasley cats, who were all LionClan cats.

"Sometimes, but not all the time," Fawnwillow replied. "Daisystem Patil's twin sister Roseclaw is in RavenClan, and they're identical Siamese cats. You'd think they'd be together in the same Clan, wouldn't you?"

Nightfang looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be more empty seats there than usual. Badgerstripe, of course, was still fighting his way across the sea with the first years, and even Thistleheart was doubtlessly supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor. But there was another empty chair too, and Nightfang couldn't think who else was missing.

So he asked, "Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts mentor?"

They had never yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts mentor who had lasted more than just a year. Nightfang's favorite by far had been Wolfclaw Lupin, who had resigned last year due to having been found to be a werewolf. He looked up and down the staff table, but there was no new face there.

Fawnwillow, who was also looking over there, mewed, "Maybe they couldn't get anyone!"

Nightfang skimmed over the table more carefully. Little Shortlegs Flitwick, a brown-&-white Munchkin and the Charms mentor, was sitting on a large pile of pillows beside Sproutflower Sprout, a gray tabby European Shorthair and the Herbology mentor, whose hat was crooked over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Windwhisker Sinistra, a dark gray she-cat and the head of the Stargazing class. On Windwhisker's other side was the thin-faced dark tabby grease-furred Potions mentor, Brokenfang Snape, Nightfang's least favorite cat at the Forest.

Nightfang's loathing of the Norwegian Forest Cat was matched by _his_ hatred of him, a hatred which had perhaps deepened last year, when Nightfang had helped Padfoot escape right from Brokenfang's claws. What was more was that Brokenfang and Padfoot had been enemies since their own school days.

On the other side was an empty seat, which was definitely Thistleheart's. Next to it, in the very center of the table, sat Silverstar Dumbledore, the leader, his thick silver tabby pelt shining in the candlelight, his magnificent green cape sewn with many stars and moons. The Persian's sturdy paws were together as he rested his chin on them, staring up at the ceiling with bright blue eyes as if lost in thought. Nightfang glanced up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, but he had never seen it look stormy. Black and purple clouds swirled across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Hurry up," Redstone moaned from Nightfang's side. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

The words were no sooner released than the doors opened and silence fell. Thistleheart had come into the room, leading a line of first year cats up to the top of the Hall. If older cats were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the sea rather than sailed. All of these cats were shivering with a mixture of cold and nerves as they marched along the staff table and came to a halt, facing the rest of the school.

Of course all of them were scared...except the smallest, an Egyptian Mau with speckled gray fur, wrapped in what Nightfang saw as Badgerstripe's overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked like he was draped in a furry brown circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost excited.

When he lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Mousepelt's eye, waved a paw, and mouthed, _"I fell in the sea!"_ He looked positively delighted about it.

Thistleheart now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an ancient dirty blue collar. The first years stared at it, and so did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then it stood up and gaped open until it looked like a mouth, and the collar broke into song:

_A thousand years or more ago,_

_When I was newly sewn,_

_There lived four wildcats of celebrity,_

_Whose names are still well known:_

_Bold Lion, who came from wild uplands,_

_Fair Eagle, who came from verdant glen,_

_Sweet Badger, from great forests abroad,_

_Shrewd Viper, who came darkest fen._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_They hatched a daring plan_

_To educate young warriors_

_Thus the Forest began._

_Now each of these four founders_

_Formed their own Clan, for each_

_Did value different virtues_

_In the ones they had to teach._

_By LionClan, the bravest were_

_Prized far beyond the rest;_

_For RavenClan, the cleverest_

_Would always be the best;_

_For BadgerClan, hard workers were_

_Most worthy of admission;_

_And power-hungry ViperClan_

_Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive, they did divide_

_Their favorites from the throng,_

_Yet how to pick the earnest ones_

_When they were dead and gone?_

_'__Twas Lion who had found the way,_

_He whipped me from his head_

_The founders put some brains in me_

_So _I_ could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your neck,_

_For I've never yet been wrong,_

_I'll have a look inside your mind_

_And tell where you belong!_

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Collar finished.

"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," Nightfang remarked, clapping along with everyone else.

"Eh, it sings a different one every year," Redstone replied. "It's gotta be a pretty boring life, being a collar. I guess it spends all year making up the next one."

Thistleheart was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the collar and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When it announces your Clan, you will go and sit at the appropriate table. Ackerley, Cloudpaw!"

A trembling white tom walked forward picked up the Collar, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAN!" shouted the collar.

Cloudpaw took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the RavenClan table, where everyone was applauding him. Nightfang caught a glimpse of Rainleaf, the Seeker of the RavenClan AirBall team, cheering for Cloudpaw as he sat down. For a fleeting second, he had a strange desire to join the RavenClan cats too, but he knew that Clan loyalty was a must.

"Baddock, Elmpaw!"

"VIPERCLAN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; Nightfang could see Iceheart cheering as Elmpaw joined his new Clanmates. Nightfang wondered if Elmpaw knew that ViperClan had produced more Dark warriors than any other. The Weasley twins hissed loudly at Elmpaw as he sat down.

"Branstone, Cedarpaw!"

"BADGERCLAN!"

"Cauldwell, Goatpaw!"

"BADGERCLAN!"

"Creevey, Volepaw!"

Tiny Volepaw staggered forward, tripping over the coat, just as Badgerstripe himself edged into the Hall through a door behind the main table. Twice as large as a Labrador and three times as broad, Badgerstripe, with his black pelt, dark eyes, and white stripes, looked frightening. But this was a misleading impression, for the Golden Trio knew that he was a kind and very gentle cat. He winked at them as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Volepaw putting on the Sorting Collar.

The collar opened wide, and... "LIONCLAN!"

Badgerstripe cheered along with the LionClan cats as Volepaw, smiling widely, took the collar off, put it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother. Leaping onto an empty spot, he cheered, "Mousepelt, I fell in! It was awesome! And something in the water went under me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Wow!" Mousepelt replied, sounding just as excited. "It was probably the sperm whale!"

"Wow!" Volepaw repeated as if nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed sea and rescued by a giant sea monster.

Then Mousepelt meowed, "Volepaw! See that cat down there? The one with the black fur and green eyes? See him? Know who he is? He's Nightfang Potter!"

Nightfang looked away, staring very hard at the Collar now Sorting Pinepaw Dobbs. The Sorting continued; cats with varying degrees of fright were moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line declining slowly as Thistleheart passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Redstone groaned, kneading his growling belly.

"Do not forget, Redstone, the Sorting's more important than food," Headlesshead Nick said as Hamsterpaw Madley became a BadgerClan cat.

Redstone glared at the ghost. "Course it is, if you're dead."

Headlesshead Nick didn't listen, for he was clapping as Ivypaw McDonald joined the LionClan cats. "We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

LionClan had won the Inter-Clan Championship for the last three years in a row. Four more years, and it would beat ViperClan's record.

"Pritchard, Troutpaw!"

"VIPERCLAN!"

"Quirke, Tanpaw!"

"RAVENCLAN!"

And finally, with Glasspaw Whitby becoming a BadgerClan cat, the Sorting ended. Thistleheart picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away. "About time," Redstone muttered a bit loudly, looking eagerly at his golden plate.

Silverstar had gotten to his paws, smiling around at the students, his tail held up in welcome. "I have only two words to say," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" Nightfang and Redstone called loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes. Headlesshead Nick watched mournfully as the cats of the Golden Trio loaded their own plates.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," Redstone sighed with his mouth full of turkey meat. It was translated as "Aaah, that's better."

"You're lucky there's a feast tonight," Headlesshead Nick said. "There was a spot of trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? What happened?" Nightfang asked, tearing through a large chunk of steak.

The ghost shook his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck and went on, "It was the Joker, of course. The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast...well, it's quite out of the question. You know what he's like. Utterly unrefined, can't see a plate of food without throwing it across the room. We held a ghost's council, and the Fat Monk wanted to give him the chance. But thankfully, in my opinion, the Gory Gaunt put his foot down."

The Gory Gaunt was the ghost of ViperClan, a thin silent menace covered in silver bloodstains. He was the only being at the Forest who could really control the Joker.

Redstone replied, "Yeah, we thought the Joker seemed hyper about something. So what'd he do in the kitchens?"

"Oh the usual," Headlesshead Nick replied, shrugging. "Wreaked chaos and mayhem, pots and pans everywhere, the entire place swimming in soup, the house-lemurs scared out of their wits..."

Clang.

Fawnwillow had knocked over her golden chalice. Grape juice now spread bit by bit over the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen purple, but she paid no attention.

"There are house-lemurs here?" she rasped in shock at Nick. "At the Forest?"

Looking surprised, Nick said, "Certainly. The largest number in any dwelling in America, I believe. Over a hundred. Even more than the lemurs that live at their native land, Madagascar."

Fawnwillow gaped at him. "I've never seen one here before."

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day," Headlesshead Nick said. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning, see to the fires, and so on and so forth. But I believe you're not supposed to see them, right, since they're nocturnal? That's the mark of a good lemur, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

"But don't they get paid?" the tabby Angora she-cat asked. "Don't they get vacations? And...and sick days, annuities, and everything?"

Headlesshead Nick chuckled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the bit of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck. "Sick days and annuities?" he repeated, pushing his head back on his shoulders and securing it once more. "House-lemurs here don't want sick days and annuities!"

Fawnwillow looked down at her untouched plate of food, then she pushed it away from her, glaring at it as if it just bit her paw.

"Oh c'mon," Redstone meowed, accidentally spraying Nightfang with bits of meat. "Oops. Sorry." He swallowed and went on, "You won't get them a sick day by starving yourself, you know!"

But Fawnwillow refused to eat another bit, glaring down at her plate angrily. "Slave labor...that's what made this dinner. _Slave labor."_ Then she growled sarcastically, "America! Home of the free, yet it's home of the slaves!"

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished. Then they were replaced, instantly, with pudding and lots of other desserts that would make one drool.

"Chocolate cake, Fawnwillow!" Redstone mewed, deliberately blowing its smell toward her. "Red Jell-O, look! Banana pudding!"

But she gave him a look so much like Thistleheart that he gave up.

When the desserts too were eaten and the last crumbs faded off the plates, Silverstar got to his paws again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased so that only the howling breeze and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" Silverstar purred, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all Sorted, fed, and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices." Fawnwillow sniffed at the fed-and-watered part, but he went on.

"Mr. Oscar Filch, the custodian, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has been extended to include Yowling Yo-yos, Saber-tooth Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list contains some four hundred and forty eight items, I believe, and can be seen in Mr. Filch's office. Feel free check it." But the corners of his mouth twitched.

Then he continued, "I would also like to remind you all that the swamp on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the Village to all cats below their third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-Clan AirBall Trophy will not take place this year."

"WHAT?!" Nightfang roared. He looked around at the Weasley twins, his fellow members of the AirBall team. They were mouthing quietly at Silverstar, apparently too horrified to speak.

"This is due to an event that will start in October and continue throughout the school year, taking up much of the mentors' time and energy," Silverstar explained. "But I am sure you will all enjoy it greatly. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at the Forest-"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder, and lightning lashed down towards young groups of cats. However, at that moment too, a flash of light countered the lightning bolt and sent it back towards the enchanted ceiling. The cats recovered from this brief nightmare, and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A cat stood in the doorway, leaning on a long staff in his jaws and shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of unstraying lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of dark gray fur, and began to limp up toward the mentors' table. A dull clunk now echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily towards Silverstar. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling above their heads, and Fawnwillow gasped.

The lightning had thrown the cat's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Nightfang had ever seen before. It looked like it was carved out of weathered wood by someone who had no idea of what cat faces were supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal crooked gash with a tooth sticking out, and a large chunk of the flat nose was missing. Plus, he had no tail. But it was his eyes that made him scary.

One of them was small, dark amber, and beady. The other was large and round as a coin, a vivid electric green. The green eye was moving eternally, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, freely of the normal eye. In fact, it sounded like it was programmed by a computer. And then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of his head so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Silverstar, nodding and holding up a paw that was as badly scarred as his face. Silverstar nodded back, muttering words Nightfang couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some analysis of the stranger, who shook his head grimly and replied in a very low undertone. Silverstar nodded and gestured for the cat to sit in the empty seat on his right side with a tail flick away.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray fur out of his face, pulled a plate of hot dogs toward him, and sniffed it with the remainder of his nose. He then unsheathed a gnarly claw from the mangled paw, speared a wiener on the end of it (heh-heh), and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon his food, but the green eye was still whizzing edgily around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the cats.

"Erm...may I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts mentor?" Silverstar meowed brightly into the silence. "Mad-eye Moody."

It was customary for the new staff members to be greeted with ovation, but none of the staff or apprentices clapped except for Silverstar and Badgerstripe, who both applauded. But the sound echoed gloomily into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too mesmerized and shocked by Mad-eye's weird appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Moody?" Nightfang mewed. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Must be," Redstone replied in a low awed voice.

"What happened to him?" Fawnwillow whispered. "What happened to his face?"

The American Shorthair shrugged, watching Mad-eye with fascination.

Mad-eye seemed fully unconcerned about his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the pitcher of apple juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a canteen, and took a long drink from it.

"What do you think's in there?" Toadfall asked.

Nightfang shrugged. "I have no idea. But I'm sure it's not grape juice."

As he lifted his paw to drink, his cloak was pulled a few kit-lengths from the ground. Right there, Nightfang saw, below the table, a carved wooden hind leg, ending in a clawed foot to resemble a cat's foot. Then Silverstar cleared his throat, smiling at the sea of cats before him as they were still transfixed at Mad-eye.

"As I was saying..." he meowed. "We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming moons, an event that has not been held for over a hundred years. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Tri-warrior Tournament will take place at the Forest, School of Warriorism this year."

"WOW!" Berrytail yowled loudly. "You're JOKING!"

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Mad-eye's arrival suddenly broke apart. Almost everyone laughed, and even Silverstar chuckled positively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley. But now that you mention it, I did hear a good one in greenleaf about a mammoth, a boar, and a hare who all go into a bar..."

But Thistleheart cleared her throat loudly.

So Silverstar meowed, "But maybe this is not the time...no...where was I? Ah yes. So anyways, the Tri-warrior Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation and let their attention wander freely." He cleared his throat and began.

"The Tri-warrior Tournament was first created in the Middle Ages as a friendly rivalry between the three greatest schools of wizardry: the Forest in the United States of America, the Resort in southern France, and the Mountain in northern Germany. A guardian was selected to represent each school, and the three guardians competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was agreed to be an amazing way of forming ties between young warriors of different nationalities...until the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was cancelled."

"Death toll?" Fawnwillow squeaked, looking upset.

But her worry was not shared by a lot of cats in the Hall; many of them were now whispering excitedly to one another. Nightfang himself wanted to hear more about the tournament than worry about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

Silverstar went on, "There have been several shots over the years to restore the tournament, none of which were very successful. However, our departments of Worldwide Magical Teamwork and Magical Games and Sports have decided that the time is ripe for another try. We have worked hard in greenleaf to ensure that this time, no guardian will find themselves danger.

"The leaders of the Resort and the Mountain will arrive with their eligible candidates in October, and the choosing of the three guardians will take place at Halloween. A neutral judge will decide which cats are worthy of competing for the Tri-warrior Trophy, the glory of their own school, honor of being a noble warrior, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Berrytail hissed right away, his face lit with passion for such glory and riches.

He was not the only cat who seemed to see himself as the guardian of the Forest. At every Clan table, Nightfang saw cats either gazing attentively at Silverstar or whispering eagerly to their neighbors. But then Silverstar spoke again, and the Hall quieted down once more.

"Eager though I know all of you are to bring the Tri-warrior Trophy to the Forest, the heads of the joining schools, along with the Government of Warriorism, have agreed to execute an age limit on candidates this year. Only cats of age...that is to say, seventeen years or older...will be allowed to put forward their names for thought. THIS..." Silverstar raised his voice slightly, for several cats had let out yowls of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious. "...is a measure we feel is required, given that the tournament tasks will still be tough and hazardous, whatever safety measures we take, and it is unlikely that cats below sixth and seventh years will cope with them. I myself will ensure that no underage cat deceives our neutral judge into making them the guardian of the Forest."

His blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over the twins' rebellious faces. "For that reason, I beg you not to waste your time accepting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The allocations from the Resort and the Mountain will arrive in October and stay with us for the greater part of this year. I know you will all extend civility to our overseas guests while they are with us and will give your total support to the Forest guardian when they are selected. And trust me when I say, this contest are not for the faint-hearted. But more of that later. It is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Off you trot!"

The silver tabby tom sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye. There was a great scraping and banging as all the cats got to their paws and swarmed to the doors into the entrance hall.

"They can't do that!" Cherrynose hissed, having not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but glaring at Silverstar. "We'll be seventeen in April! Why can't we have a shot?"

"They won't stop ME from entering," Berrytail added stubbornly, also scowling at the leader. "The guardians can do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," Redstone murmured, a faraway look on his face. "A thousand Galleons..."

"Come on," Fawnwillow spoke up. "We'll be the only ones left if you don't move your tails."

So the Golden Trio and the twins set off for the entrance hall. The latter were speechifying the ways in which Silverstar could stop those under seventeen from entering the tournament.

"Who's this neutral judge who's going to decide who the guardians are?" Nightfang asked.

"Dunno," Berrytail meowed. "But it's them we'll have to fool. I suppose a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, Cherrynose."

Redstone mewed, "Silverstar knows you're not old enough, though."

Berrytail snorted. "Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the guardian is, is he? Sounds like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Silverstar's just trying to stop us giving our names."

"Yeah, but what about cats dying?" Fawnwillow probed in a nervous voice. They prowled on through a door hidden behind a drapery and started up another narrower staircase.

"But that was years ago," Berrytail retorted. "This is now. Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Redstone, what if we find out how to get 'round Silverstar? Wanna enter?"

"What do you think?" Redstone asked Nightfang. "It'll be cool to enter, huh? But I suppose they might want someone older. I don't know if we've learned enough."

"I definitely haven't," Toadfall's gloomy voice mewed from behind the twins. "I expect my gran gran wants me to try, though. She's always ranting about how I should uphold the family honor and name. I'll just have to...darn it!"

Toadfall's hind paw had sunk through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many of these trick stairs at the Forest; it was usual for most of the older cats to jump this particular step, but Toadfall's memory was infamously poor. Nightfang and Redstone seized him by the scruff and pulled him up while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing huskily.

"Shut up," Redstone spat, banging down its visor as they passed. They made their way up to the entrance to the LionClan Tower, which was hidden behind a large portrait of a fat white she-cat in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked as they approached.

"Boulder dash," Cherrynose meowed. "A prefect downstairs told me."

The picture swung forth to reveal a hole in the wall, which they all climbed into. A crackling fire warmed the circular den room, which was full of soft armchairs and tables. Fawnwillow gave the happily dancing flames a stern look, and Nightfang heard her hiss "Slave labor" before saying good night and padding through the doorway to the she-cats' dorm.

Nightfang, Redstone, and Toadfall went up the last spiral staircase until they reached their own dorm, which was set at the top of the tower. Five four-poster nests with deep red hangings stood against the walls, each with its owner's suitcase at the foot. Ashfoot and Sandfur were already getting ready to sleep; Sandfur had pinned his Canadian badge to his bedpost, and Ashfoot had tacked up a poster of EarthClan over his bedside table. His old poster of the New York Giants football team was pinned next to it.

"Weird," Redstone sighed, shaking his head at the totally still football players.

Nightfang, Redstone, and Toadfall leapt into their nests and curled up into balls. Someone...a house-lemur, definitely...had placed electric blankets between the sheets. It was very comfy, lying there in bed and listening to the storm raging outside at night.

"I might go for it," Redstone yawned sleepily through the darkness. "You know, if the twins find out how to get in the tournament. You never know, right?"

"Guess not."

Nightfang rolled onto his side, a series of alluring new pictures forming in his mind's eye. He had tricked the neutral judge into thinking he was seventeen years old. He had become the guardian of the Forest, standing on the grounds and smiling, his tail raised in triumph in front of the whole school, all of whom were clapping and screaming. He had just won the Tri-warrior Tournament. And Rainleaf's face stood out clearly in the blurred crowd, her pretty face glowing with bright admiration.

Nightfang smiled to himself, glad that Redstone couldn't see what he could.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: I'm glad we're getting somewhere with these chapters! And I'm glad the Forest section of the fourth Nightfang Potter book is finally here! Aren't you glad too, Hermione?**

**Hermione: Yes I am. And it's good to catch up with the other favorite stories you've been reading. Who knows? Maybe some might be finished already.**

**AvatarCat12: Yeah. I really owe them some reviews after no Internet for three weeks. So you wanna say the review thing?**

**Hermione: I guess I can. (To the readers) Anyone who wants to review and does so will receive virtual plush dolls of Yellowfang or Lucky since AvatarCat12 has Yellowfang's Secret and The Empty City now. Flames will not be allowed on here, but constructive criticism and advice are welcome anytime.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	13. Mad-Eye Moody

**AvatarCat12: Hey there again, folks! It's time to upload the third chapter of the day, but not of the entire story! Plus, Harry and Hermione already had their turns returning to this series. So welcome Ron back here!**

**Ron: (Comes into the office and shakes his hand) Hey, Avatar Cat. Good to be back here. Blimey, it's been a while, hasn't it?**

**AvatarCat12: Yeah, but good to have you over here again. And...you excited to see the skrewts again?**

**Ron: No way! I didn't know how we would survive with those monsters around! But just to get it out of the way, I'll go ahead and say the disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: You all heard what he said. He doesn't own this series or Warrior Cats. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own them.**

**Uploading Date: October 23, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Mad-Eye Moody**_

The storm was over by next morning, yet the ceiling in the Great Hall was still melancholy. Big heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled above the cats' head as the Golden Trio studied their new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats away from them, the twins and their friend (a black-&-white Scottish Fold named Quicktongue Jordan) were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and tricking their way into the Tri-warrior Tournament.

"Today's not bad...outside all morning," Redstone mewed, running a claw down the Monday row of his schedule. "Herbology with BadgerClan and Care of Other Animals. _Damn it_, we're still with ViperClan."

"Double Divination at sunhigh," Nightfang grumbled, looking down. Divination was his least favorite subject, apart from Potions. Mistbright, the Divination mentor, kept predicting his death, which he found to be very irritating.

"Then maybe you should've given it up like me, right?" Fawnwillow meowed hurriedly, putting some apple jam on a biscuit. "Then you'd be doing something practical like Arithmancy."

Redstone watched her add copious amounts of butter on her biscuit too. "Looks like you're eating again," he remarked.

"Yeah, well...there are better ways of making a stand about house-lemur rights," Fawnwillow replied haughtily.

"Yeah...that, and you were hungry," Redstone purred, grinning.

There was a sudden swooshing noise above them, and lots owls came soaring through the open windows, carrying the morning mail. On impulse, Nightfang looked up, but there was no sign of tan-&-white among the mass of brown and gray. The owls circled over the tables, looking for the cats to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large great horned owl soared down to Toadfall and dropped a parcel onto his head; Toadfall almost always forgot to pack something.

On the other side of the Hall, Iceheart's great gray owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets from home. Trying to take no notice of the discontent in his belly, Nightfang just returned to his morning tuna. Was it even possible that something had happened to Katara, and that Padfoot hadn't even got his letter?

**...**

His anxiety lasted all the way across the wet vegetable patch until they arrived in hothouse three, but he was distracted by Sproutflower showing the class the ugliest plants Nightfang had ever seen. They looked less like plants and more like thick black giant slugs protruding steeply out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubo-tubers," Sproutflower told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus-"

"The what?" Sandfur asked, sounding revolted.

Sproutflower replied, "Pus, Finnigan, pus. And it's very valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus in these bottles, and wear your gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when unmixed, bubo-tuber pus."

Squeezing the bubo-tubers was disgusting but oddly satisfying. As each bulge was popped, a big amount of thick yellow-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of gasoline. They caught it in the bottles as Sproutflower had shown, and by the end of the lesson, they had all collected several pints.

"This'll keep Poppyleaf happy," the gray tabby she-cat meowed, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of bad skin, bubotuber pus. It should stop students from resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of hives."

"Like poor Beavertail Midgen," Snowtuft Abbott, a black-&-white Oriental Longhair, mewed in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

Sproutflower shook her head. "Silly girl shouldn't have tried. But don't worry. Poppyleaf fixed her nose back on in the end."

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated. The BadgerClan cats climbed up the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the LionClan cats headed in the other direction, down the sloping lawn to Badgerstripe's small wooden hut. Said hut always stood on the edge of the Forbidden Swamp.

Badgerstripe was standing outside his hut, a paw on the collar of his enormous fawn-colored Great Dane, Marmaduke. There were open wooden crates on the ground at his back paws, and Duke (as he was often called) was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently eager to see the contents more closely. As the cats drew nearer, an unusual rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

"Mornin', kids!" Badgerstripe called, grinning at the Golden Trio. "Better wait fer the ViperClan cats; they won't wanna miss this! Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"Come again?" Redstone mewed.

Badgerstripe pointed down into the crates.

"Eww!" Browntuft Brown (a Selkirk Rex), squealed, jumping back.

"Eww" just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts in Nightfang's opinion. They looked like mutated shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred in each crate, each about as long as a rat, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a powerful smell of rotting fish and skunks. On occasion, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small poot, it would be propelled forward several kitten-steps.

Badgerstripe nodded proudly. "Only just hatched, kids! So yeh'll be able to raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project outta it!"

"And why would _we_ want to raise them?" a cold voice sneered.

The ViperClan cats had arrived. The speaker was Iceheart, and Lobsterclaw and Monkeynose were chuckling favorably and stupidly at his words. Badgerstripe just looked stumped at the question.

"I mean, what do they do?" Iceheart went on. "What is the point of them?"

The big black cat opened his mouth, seemingly thinking; there was silence, and then he replied roughly, "That's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer just feedin' 'em today. Now yeh'll want ter try 'em on a few different things. I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer. But I got termite eggs and toad livers and a bit of rattlesnake. Just try 'em out with a bit of each."

"First pus, now this," Sandfur muttered.

Nothing but deep warmth for Badgerstripe could have made the Golden Trio pick up squidgy pawfuls of toad liver and drop them into the crates to arouse the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Nightfang couldn't subdue the thought that the whole thing was completely useless, for the skrewts didn't seem to have mouths.

Suddenly, after ten minutes, Ashfoot yowled, "Ow! It got me!"

Badgerstripe ran over to him, looking anxious.

"Its end exploded!" Ashfoot hissed angrily, showing the gamekeeper a burn on his forepaw.

"Ah, yeah. That can happen when they blast off," Badgerstripe meowed, nodding.

"Eww!" Browntuft squealed again. "Badgerstripe, what's that pointy thing on it?"

Badgerstripe said this that made her withdraw her paw: "Ah, some of 'em got stings. They must be the males. The females got sucker things on their bellies. I think they might suck blood."

"Well, I can see why we're keeping them alive," Iceheart drawled sarcastically. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"

"Just because they're not pretty doesn't mean they're not useful, Malfoy," Fawnwillow retorted. "Griffin blood's incredibly magical, but you wouldn't want one for a pet, right?"

The toms of the Golden Trio smiled at Badgerstripe, who gave them a furtive grin back. Their giant friend would have liked nothing better than a pet griffin, as the Trio knew only too well. He had owned one briefly during their first year, a vicious Mexican Wolf's Tail griffin by the name of Roberta. Badgerstripe loved monstrous beasts; the deadlier, the better.

"Well, at least they're small," Redstone observed as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.

Fawnwillow sighed exasperatedly. "Well, yeah, they are for now. But once Badgerstripe finds out what they eat, they'll be around as big as a dog."

Redstone gave her a sly grin. "Well, it won't matter if they can cure seasickness or others, eh?"

"I only said that to shut Iceheart up," Fawnwillow sighed. "Even though I hate to say this, for once, he's right. We'd have to stomp on them before they start attacking us all."

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to plates of corn on the cob and lasagna. Once she got her plate, Fawnwillow began eating so fast that the toms stared at her in amazement. Nightfang never knew the light brown tabby she-cat was as much of a big eater as Redstone was.

"Is this the new stand on the rights of lemurs?" Redstone asked, looking confused. "You're gonna make yourself throw up instead?"

Fawnwillow shook her head, holding her held up high with dignity despite lasagna sauce all around her muzzle. "No," she replied, giving a small burp. "Gotta get to the library."

Redstone gaped at her. "But it's our first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"

Fawnwillow shrugged and continued to wolf down her food as if she hadn't eaten for days. Then she leapt to her paws, gave them a short farewell, and departed at high speed.

**...**

When the bell rang to signal to start afternoon lessons, Nightfang and Redstone set off for North Tower. There, at the top of a firmly spiraling flight of steps, a silver stepladder led to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, the room where Mistbright was at.

The familiar sickeningly sweet scent of perfume from the fire met their noses as they emerged at the top of the stepladder. As ever, the curtains were all closed; the circular room was suffused in a dim red light cast by the many lamps, which were draped with shawls. Nightfang and Redstone padded through the mass of occupied chintzy chairs and beanbags that cluttered the room and sat down at the same small circular table.

"Good day," the misty voice of Mistbright meowed behind Nightfang, making him jump.

A thin pale gray she-cat with enormous glasses that made her eyes appear too big for her face, Mistbright was peering down at Nightfang with the tragic expression she always wore whenever she saw him. The usual large amount of beads, chains, and bangles glittered upon her pelt in the firelight.

"You are pensive, my dear," she meowed mournfully to the black tom. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the uneasy soul inside. As luck would have it, your worries are not unjustified. I see difficult times ahead for you...most difficult. I fear the thing you dread the most will indeed come to pass...and perhaps sooner than you think..." Her voice dropped almost to a whisper.

Redstone just rolled his blue eyes at Nightfang, who looked unemotionally back.

The Devon Rex mix swept past them and sat in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. Browntuft and Siamese cat Daisystem Patil, who deeply admired Mistbright, were sitting on beanbags very close to her.

Mistbright began, "My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars. The movements of the planets and mysterious omens they reveal to those who know the steps of the cosmic dance. Destiny may be interpreted by the planetary rays, which coalesce."

But Nightfang's thoughts had drifted away. The perfumed fire always made him feel sleepy and dull-witted, and Mistbright's rambling talks on fortune-telling never held him spellbound. But he couldn't help thinking about what she had just said to him. _I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass._

_Fawnwillow was right,_ Nightfang thought, frowning crossly. _The old bone bag really IS a fraud!_

He wasn't dreading anything at the moment...unless you counted his fears that Padfoot had been caught...but what did Mistbright know? He had always come to the conclusion that her brand of fortunetelling was just lucky guesswork and a spooky manner. Except for that time at the end of last term, when she had made the prediction about Red Helmet rising again. And even Silverstar himself had said that he thought that trance was genuine when Nightfang described it to him.

"Nightfang!" Redstone muttered.

"Huh?"

He looked around in time to see the whole class staring at him. The Maine Coon mix sat up straight; he had been almost dozing off, lost in the heat and his thoughts.

"I was saying, my dear, that you were born under the sinister sway of Saturn," Mistbright told him, a faint note of offense in her voice at the fact that he had not been hanging on her words.

Nightfang gazed at her drowsily. "Born under...sorry?"

Mistbright went on, sounding irritated that he wasn't interested. "Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn! I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth. Your dark black pelt...your poor stature...tragic losses in life...I know I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in the middle of leaf-bare?"

"No," Nightfang sighed. "I was born in July."

Redstone rapidly turned his laugh into a hacking cough.

Half an hour later, every cat was given a complicated circular chart and was attempting to fill in the position of the planets at their birth. It was extremely dull work, requiring much discussion of timetables and calculation of angles.

"I've got two Neptunes," Nightfang meowed after a while, frowning at his piece of scroll. "That can't be right, can it?"

"Aaaaah," Redstone replied, imitating Mistbright's mystical whisper. "When two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a green-eyed maggot is being born, Nightfang."

Sandfur and Ashfoot, who were working nearby, laughed at this joke loudly, though not loudly enough to mask the excited squeals from Browntuft. The Selkirk Rex was mewling quickly, "Oh, look! I think I've got an unexpected planet! Oooh, which one's that?"

Mistbright gazed down at the chart. "It is Uranus, my dear."

Redstone chuckled. "Can I have a look at Uranus too, Browntuft?"

**(Author's Note: [Uncontrollable laughter is heard throughout the office. We apologize for the lack of an author's note. Please wait until the next one comes back up.])**

Unfortunately, Mistbright heard him, and it was this, possibly, that made her give them so much homework at the end of the class.

"A complete analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming moon will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped, sounding much more like Thistleheart than her usual vague self. "I want it to be turned in next Monday. No excuses!"

**...**

"Wretched old frog," Redstone growled bitterly as they joined the crowds down the stairs and back to the Great Hall. "That'll take all weekend!"

"Lots of homework, huh?" Fawnwillow chirped brightly, catching up with them. "Crowflight Vector didn't give us any at all!"

The American Shorthair grumbled moodily. "Well, hooray for Crowflight."

They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with cats standing in line for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line when a loud and, may I add, VERY obnoxious voice rang out just behind them.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

The Golden Trio, sighing at who this was, turned around. Iceheart and his two cronies were standing there, each looking utterly pleased about something. Said first tom was holding a copy of the Daily Warrior in his broad jaws.

"What?" Redstone snapped shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" Iceheart meowed, waving the paper and speaking very loudly so that everyone in the entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!"

_FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE GOVERNMENT OF WARRIORISM_

_It seems as if the GOVERNMENT'S troubles are not yet at an end, writes Tansy Skeeter, Special Writer. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the AirBall World Trophy, and still unable to describe the disappearance of one of its warriors, the Government was plunged into fresh shame yesterday by the clowning around of Weaselwasp Weasley, warrior of the Abuse of Twoleg Objects Office."_

Iceheart looked up with a sneer. "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's like he's a complete nobody, isn't it?" he crowed.

Everyone was listening now. Iceheart straightened the paper with a wave and read on:

_Weaselwasp Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying monster two years ago, was yesterday involved in a scrimmage with several Twoleg law-keepers called "policemen" over a number of highly aggressive rottweilers. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Aura Cat who retired from the Government when no longer able to tell the difference between a greeting and a plotted assassination. Naturally, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at his heavily guarded house, that Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to alter several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but he refused to answer Daily Warrior questions about why he had involved the Government in such an unbecoming and potentially humiliating scene._

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" Iceheart jeered on, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house...you call this a house! Your mother could do with losing weight, couldn't she?"

Redstone was shaking with fury as everyone looked at him. Nightfang knew how humiliating that was, and he was furious at Iceheart for exploiting this.

"Get lost, Malfoy," he ordered. "Let's go, Redstone."

Turning his attention to him now, Iceheart sneered, "Oh, you were staying over with them in greenleaf, weren't you, Potter? So is his mother really that chubby, or is it just the picture?"

Nightfang and Fawnwillow had grabbed Redstone's tail to keep him from leaping at the smug British Shorthair. But Nightfang let go to retort, "You know your mother, Malfoy? You know, that look she's got, like she's got fox dung under her nose? Did she always look like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Iceheart's pale face went slightly pink as he spat, "Don't you insult my mother, Potter."

"Then keep your fucking mouth shut," Nightfang snarled, turning away. He couldn't believe his rival could dish out an attack but was way too weak to take any of it.

SLASH!

Several cats screamed, and Nightfang felt razor-sharp claws graze the side of his face. Iceheart had leapt back, sneering as his claws were coated in blood. The tall black cat unsheathed his claws too and was about to pounce when he heard a loud BANG, and a roar echoed through the entrance hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, SONNY!"

As quick as a flash, Nightfang spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was limping down the sandstone staircase. He had some strange claws fixed over his paw, and they were pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stony floor, right where Iceheart was standing. There was a hushed silence in the hall, and nobody but Mad-Eye was moving a muscle. The dark gray tom turned to look at Nightfang...at least, his normal eye was looking at him. The other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you?" Mad-Eye growled, his voice low and gruff.

Nightfang shrugged, licking a forepaw and swiping it over the wound. "Just one time."

Suddenly, Mad-Eye roared, "LEAVE IT!"

"Leave...what?" Nightfang mewed, bewildered.

"Not you! Him!" Mad-Eye growled.

He nodded his head over his shoulder at Lobsterclaw, who had just frozen and was about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Mad-Eye's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head. He started to limp toward Iceheart's cronies and the ferret, which gave a scared squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" Mad-Eye shrieked, pointing his magic claws at the ferret again. It flew about ten fox-lengths into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced up once more.

As he bounced the ferret around, Mad-Eye growled, "I don't like cats who attack when their opponent's back's turned. Stinking slimy lily-livered thing to do..."

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. It was also squealing in pain as it was being bounced up and down again and again. And at another time, the ferret was forced to bounce repeatedly on Lobsterclaw's head, making him grunt in shock and pain.

"Never. Do. That. Again!" Mad-Eye growled, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

"Mr. Moody!" a shocked voice rasped.

Thistleheart was coming down the sandstone staircase, pulling a wagon of books down a bit like a husky. She was gaping on in shock as she saw this kind of wonder.

"Hello, Thistleheart," Mad-Eye meowed calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

Thistleheart's green eyes followed the bouncing ferret's progress through the air. "What...what in StarClan's name are you doing?"

Mad-Eye remained what he was doing. "Teaching."

"Teach..._is that an apprentice_?!" she shrieked, letting out of the wagon.

"Technically, it's a ferret," Mad-Eye replied, still bouncing the ferret around.

Thistleheart let out a yowl, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Iceheart had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek silver head fur all over his now pink face. He got to his paws, wincing a bit, but his glare was back on in a few seconds.

"My father will hear of this!" he whined.

Mad-eye glared at him. "Is that a threat? _Is that a threat?!" _Then he began to chase him around, yowling, "Is that a threat, boy?! I know lots of stories about your father that will make even your curly whiskers curl! This ain't the end! You hear me?!"

"Moody!" Thistleheart's stern yet weak yowl made him stop there. "Moody, we _never_ use Transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Silverstar told you that?"

Mad-Eye licked his paw unconcernedly. "Might've mentioned it. But I thought a good sharp shock would do the trick."

Thistleheart sighed. "We give detentions, Moody! Or take away points! Or even speak to the offender's Head of Clan!"

"I'll do that, then," Mad-Eye grunted, staring at Iceheart with great dislike.

"Well then...do well to remember it!" Thistleheart sighed, padding away. She looked around anxiously a bit before flicking her tail-wand at the wagon; when it got to her, she padded off.

When her back was turned, the dark gray tom just made a weird face in her direction. Iceheart, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked spitefully up at Mad-Eye and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinct.

Mad-Eye, having heard this, limped quietly forth a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father well, boy. You tell him Mad-Eye Moody's keeping an eye on his son; you tell him that from me. Now your Head of Clan is Brokenfang Snape, will it?"

"Yes," Iceheart growled resentfully.

"Ah...another old friend," Mad-Eye growled. "I've been looking forward to a little chat with him. Come on, you." And he seized Iceheart's scruff and marched him off toward the dungeons.

Finally, the cats were able to get their dinner and enjoy it without any further interruptions. But as the Golden Trio sat down to eat, Nightfang noticed that Redstone, who was usually one to chow down like a hog, wasn't eating right away. He guessed everyone was still excitedly talking on all sides about what had just happened.

"Don't talk to me," Redstone mewed.

"Why not?" Fawnwillow asked in surprise.

The American Shorthair closed his eyes as an uplifted expression came across his face. "I want to keep that in my memory forever. Iceheart Malfoy, the magical bouncing ferret."

Nightfang and Fawnwillow both laughed before they began tipping some pepperoni pizza onto their plates. Then Fawnwillow meowed, "I know that was kinda funny, but still, he could've hurt Iceheart. Good of Thistleheart to cut it short."

"Aw, Fawnwillow!" Redstone hissed furiously, his eyes snapping open again. "You're ruining the best moment of my life!"

Fawnwillow made an impatient noise in her throat and began to eat at top speed again.

"Are you going back to the library tonight?" Nightfang asked, watching her.

"Got to," Fawnwillow grunted thickly through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Lot to do."

"But you told us Crowflight-"

Fawnwillow replied, "It's not schoolwork." Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed as quick as the Grinch stealing the last can oh Who Hash. No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Berrytail Weasley. He was joined by Cherrynose and Quicktongue, who were excitedly talking about something.

"How cool is he?" Berrytail was meowing.

"Beyond cool," Cherrynose purred, sitting down opposite his brother.

"Supercool," Quicktongue added, sliding into the seat beside Cherrynose. To Nightfang and Redstone, he meowed, "We had him for class this afternoon."

Nightfang nodded eagerly. "What was it like?"

The twins and Quicktongue traded looks full of meaning before Berrytail replied, "Never had a lesson like it."

Quicktongue nodded quickly. "He knows, man."

"Knows what?" Redstone asked leaning forward.

"Knows what it's like doing it," Cherrynose purred impressively.

"Doing what?" Nightfang asked.

"Fighting the Dark Arts," Berrytail replied.

"He's seen it all," Cherrynose piped up.

"Awesome," Quicktongue purred.

Redstone dove into his bag for his schedule, looked at it, and gave a disappointed groan. "We don't have him until Thursday!"

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**Ron: And yeah, I was looking forward to that lesson! But I wasn't prepared to see those beastly spiders back here!**

**AvatarCat12: Well, good news for you, Ron. The spiders WON'T come up onto the next chapter. Instead, it'll be mice.**

**Ron: (In disbelief) Mice? Well...that's better than spiders...even though mice remind me of a certain rat named Wormtail. But anyways, I think we better get this whole thing done with. (To the readers) Read and review, anyone! Those who do will get a doll of a certain white ferret that you can throw around and beat up.**

**AvatarCat12: That reminds me of those Brawling Buddies from the WWE.**

**Ron: yeah. But anyways, we don't allowed flames on here. If you even bring one flame here, we'll use it to cook S'Mores or roast a turkey. Advice and constructive criticism are okay...just don't make it harsh.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	14. The Three Unforgiveable Curses

**AvatarCat12: Once again, we're back, everyone! And we're here to upload the fourth chapter of the day. But don't worry; we'll still have some more chapters of other stories to upload like Avatar Aang And The Sorcerer's Stone. And to let you know, I've made some of my FanFiction stories into private books to keep myself occupied.**

**Harry: I heard you went out to a parade on Thursday. How was it?**

**AvatarCat12: It was great! But it wasn't as great as the parades at Mardi Gras. And also, my ex-girlfriend hasn't come over recently. She keeps saying she's busy.**

**Harry: Maybe so. Or she might be making excuses. But anyways, let's just go on with the disclaimer and the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: All of you should really know that AvatarCat12 doesn't own my series or Warrior Cats, and he never wants to. And if he ever owned either of these two, he'd be living in a five-star mansion!**

**Uploading Date: October 23, 2012**

**Both: Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Three Unforgiveable Curses**_

The next two days passed without great events, unless you counted Toadfall melting his sixth pot in Potions. Brokenfang, who seemed to have conquered new levels of spite over greenleaf, gave him detention while berating him harshly. The poor tabby tom returned in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to remove the guts from beaded lizards.

"You know why he's in a foul mood?" Redstone asked Nightfang as they watched Fawnwillow teaching Toadfall a Cleaning Charm to remove the lizard spleens from in between his claws.

"Yeah," Nightfang mewed. "Mad-Eye."

He knew that Brokenfang really wanted the Dark Arts job, and he had failed to get it for the fourth year running. The dark brown tabby tom had hated all their previous Dark Arts mentors and shown it too...but he seemed oddly wary of showing open hatred to Mad-Eye. In fact, when Nightfang would see the two of them at mealtimes or when they passed in the halls, he had a feeling that Brokenfang was avoiding the other's eye, magical or normal.

So Nightfang meowed thoughtfully, "I think Brokenfang's scared of him."

Redstone nodded, his eyes misting over. "Imagine if Mad-Eye turned him into a lizard and bounced him all around his dungeon...Brokenfang Snape, the magical bouncing lizard!"

**...**

The fourth year LionClan cats were looking forward to Mad-Eye's first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and lined up up outside his classroom before the bell even rang. The only cat missing was Fawnwillow, who had turned up just in time for the lesson.

"Sorry! Been in the-"

"Library, we know," Nightfang finished her sentence for her. "Let's go or we won't find a few decent seats."

So they hurried into three chairs right in front of the mentor's desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense, and waited, oddly quiet. Soon they heard Mad-Eye's characteristic clunking steps coming down the hall, and he entered the room, looking as strange and startling as ever. They could just see his clawed wooden paw protruding from behind him.

"You can put those books away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down. "You won't need them for now."

They returned the books to their bags, Redstone looking excited.

Mad-Eye took out a register, shook his mane of grizzled dark gray fur out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names. His normal eye was moving steadily down the list while his mechanical green eye swiveled around, fixing upon each cat as he or she answered.

When the last cat declared him or herself present, May-Eye meowed, "Right then. I am Mad-Eye Moody, Ex-Aura Cat, Government malcontent, and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts mentor.I've got a letter from Wolfclaw, your former mentor, about this class. Seems you've had a pretty full training in confronting Dark animals. You've covered shapers, Devil Owls, skin walkers, mega anglerfish, Chupacabras, and werewolves, right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind..._very_ far behind...on dealing with curses," Mad-Eye went on. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what warriors can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark-"

"What, aren't you staying?" Redstone blurted out.

Mad-Eye's magical eye spun around to stare at Redstone; the ginger American Shorthair looked very uneasy. But after a moment, Mad-Eye smiled, the first time Nightfang had seen him do it so far. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look even more flat and distorted than ever, but it was still good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Redstone looked deeply relieved.

The old cat chuckled, "So you're Weaseltail Weasley's son, eh? He got me out of a tight jam a few days ago. But yeah, I'm staying just this one year. Silverstar asked me to do it. One year, and then it's back to my _quiet_ retirement. End of story, good-bye, the end!"

He gave a harsh laugh, and then he slapped his scarred paw onto his desk.

"So...curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Government, I'm supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it there. I'm not allowed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not old enough to deal with it till then. But Silverstar's got a higher opinion of your nerves, and he reckons you can cope with it. I say the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How can you defend yourself against a curse you've never seen? A warrior who's going to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he'll do. He ain't going to say 'Pardon me, but I'm about to blast you with this curse'. You need to be prepared. You need to be vigilant. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking. And you _certainly_ need to find a place to put that gum somewhere else besides under your desk, Mr. Finnigan!"

Browntuft jumped up a bit and blushed. She was showing her friend Daisystem her complete horoscope under the desk. It seemed Mad-Eye's magical eye could see through solid wood as well as out of the back of his head. Sandfur was looking shocked as he rasped, "No way...the old codger can see across classrooms!"

Hearing that, Mad-Eye yowled "And HEAR across classrooms!" and threw a piece of chalk over at him. The chalk fell, and the old dark gray tom turned back to the class. "So do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by law?"

Several paws rose cautiously into the air, including Redstone's and Fawnwillow's. Then Mad-Eye pointed at Redstone, though his magical eye was still fixed on Browntuft.

"Er..." the ginger tom mewed shyly. "...my dad told me about one. Is it the Imperius Curse or something like that?"

"Ah, yes," Mad-Eye purred approvingly. "Your father would know that one. That one gave the Government lots of trouble at one time."

He got heavily to his mismatched paws, opened his desk drawer, and took out a cage. Three large white mice were scuttling around inside it. Nightfang heard Redstone snarl slightly next to him; Redstone was clearly recalling when his former "pet" had fled the castle.

Mad-Eye reached into the cage, caught a mouse ("Hello, little beauty," he muttered to it), and held it in his paw so that they could all see it. He then pointed his magic claws at it and muttered, _"Imperio!"_

The mouse leapt from Mad-Eye's paw on a piece of rope and began to swing back and forth as if on a log over water. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then it did a back flip off the rope and landed on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Mad-Eye jerked his paw, and the mouse rose onto its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a disco dance.

Everyone was laughing...except for mad-Eye, who growled, "Think it's funny, do you? Would you like it if I did it to _you_?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Don't worry. He's harmless...but not if he bites you. This takes total control," Mad-Eye explained quietly as the mouse rolled up into a ball and began to roll over and over. "What should I make him do? Jump out the window? Drown himself? Or throw himself down one of your throats and let him struggle in your bellies?"

Redstone instinctively shuddered.

Mad-Eye went on, "Years back, there were lots of warriors being controlled by the Imperius Curse." Nightfang knew he was talking about: the days when Red Helmet was invincible.

"Some job for the Government, trying to sort out who was forced to act and who acted of their own free will. But here's the catch: how DO we get the liars? The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll teach you how, but it takes strength, and not everyone's got it. Best avoid being hit if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and everyone jumped.

Mad-Eye picked up the flipping mouse and let it back into the cage. "Anyone else know one?"

Fawnwillow's paw flew into the air again and so, to Nightfang's surprise, did Toadfall's. The only class in which Toadfall usually offered information was Herbology, which was easily his best subject. The Exotic Shorthair looked surprised at his own daring.

"Yes?" Mad-Eye meowed, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Toadfall.

"There's one...the Cruciatus Curse," Toadfall mewled in a small but different voice.

Mad-Eye was looking intently at him, this time with both eyes. "Your name's Longbottom?" he asked, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Toadfall nodded nervously, but Mad-Eye made no further questions. Turning back to the class, he reached into the cage for the next mouse and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless. It was apparently too scared to move, probably scared of being eaten.

"The Cruciatus Curse, that's the one. This mouse, needs to be bigger for you to get the idea," he meowed, pointing his claws at the rodent. _"Engorgio!"_

The mouse swelled up until it was now as large as a rat. Deserting pretense, Redstone backed as far away from the mentor's desk as possible. Mad-Eye raised his claws again, pointed them at the mouse, and growled, _"Crucio!"_

At once, the mouse's legs bent in upon its body as it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. Loud squeaking came from it, but Nightfang was sure that if it could have spoken English, it would have been screaming. Mad-Eye did not remove his claws, and the mouse started to shudder and jolt more violently...

"Stop it!" Fawnwillow shrieked piercingly. "Can't you see it's bothering him?! STOP IT!"

Nightfang looked around at her. She was looking, not at the mouse, but at Toadfall, and the black cat, following her gaze, saw that Toadfall's claws were sinking into the desk in front of him, his pelt bristling and his amber eyes wide and horror-struck. So Mad-Eye raised his paw up, and the mouse's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

"_Reducio,"_ he muttered, and the mouse shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the cage with the other mice and told Fawnwillow, "Happy?"

But Fawnwillow still looked shocked.

To the class, he muttered softly, "Pain. You don't need claws, fangs, or even hellfire to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. That one was very popular too. So anyone know any others?"

Nightfang looked around. From the looks on everyone else's faces, he guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last mouse. Fawnwillow's paw shook slightly as, for the third time, she raised it into the air.

"Yes?" Mad-Eye asked, looking at her.

Fawnwillow looked like she was going to speak, but she didn't. Instead, she hung her head, looking around at Toadfall in sympathy.

Mad-Eye just nodded, another slight smile twisting his lopsided face. He reached into the glass cage, and almost as if it knew what was coming, the final mouse darted anxiously around the bottom of the cage, trying to evade Mad-Eye's paw. But he trapped it and placed it upon the desktop as it started to scamper frantically around the wooden surface.

Mad-Eye raised his paw, and Nightfang felt a sudden thrill of fear.

_"__Avada Kedavra!"_ Mad-Eye roared, lashing his paw towards the little animal.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as if a vast invisible something was soaring through the air. Instantly, the mouse rolled over onto its back with its legs in the air, undamaged but dead. Several of the cats stifled cries of fright. Redstone had thrown himself back and almost toppled off his seat as the rodent slid to him. And Fawnwillow quickly turned around and padded rather quickly out of the classroom.

Then Mad-Eye took the mouse and gulped it down, meowing casually, "Avada Kedavra...the last and worst of the three. _The Killing Curse._ Not nice, not pleasant, and there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only one known cat has ever survived it, and he's sitting in this room...right in front of me."

Nightfang lowered his head as Mad-Eye's eyes (both of them) looked into his own. He could feel everyone else looking around at him too. He stared at the blank blackboard as if charmed by it but not seeing it at all.

So that was how Darkfire and Lilypelt had died, exactly like that spider. Had they been clear and undamaged too? Had they simply seen the flash of green light and heard the gale of fast-moving death before life was wiped from their bodies? Nightfang had pictured his parents' deaths over and over again for three years now ever since Badgerstripe told him how they had been killed, ever since he had found out what had happened that night.

Wormtail had betrayed his parents' location to Red Helmet, who had come to find them at their house. How Red Helmet had killed Darkfire first. How the black-furred Maine Coon had tried to hold him off while he yowled at his mate to take Nightkit and run. Red Helmet had advanced on Lilypelt Potter, told her to move aside so that he could kill the kit, but the ginger-furred British Shorthair had begged him to kill her instead, refused to stop shielding her son. And so the demon bear had murdered her too before turning his claws on Nightkit.

Nightfang knew these details because he had heard his parents' voices when he had fought the Dementors last year. That was the terrible power of the Dementors: to force their victims to recall the worst memories of their lives and drown, powerless, in their own despair. The Maine Coon/British Shorthair mix hoped to never see one of those things ever again.

Mad-Eye was speaking again, from a great distance, Nightfang heard. With a massive effort, he pulled himself back to the present and listened to what the new mentor was saying.

"Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs powerful magic behind it. You could all get your tail-wands out now, point 'em at me, and say the words, and I doubt I'd get even a paper cut. But it doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it. Now, if there's no counter-curse, then why am I showing you? Because _you've got to know_. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a condition where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

He went on, "Now...those three curses (Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus) are known as the Three Unforgivable Curses. Or you can just call them the Unforgiveable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow cat is enough to earn a life sentence in Alcatraz. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant never-ending vigilance. So get out your quills and copy this down now."

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang, but when Mad-Eye dismissed them and they left the classroom, a flood of talk burst forth. Most cats were discussing the curses in awed voices:

"Did you see it twitch?"

"And when he killed it...just like that!"

They were talking about the lesson, Nightfang thought, as if it was a spectacular show, but he hadn't found it very amusing. He found it completely alarming, and so had Fawnwillow, who rejoined them outside the classroom.

"Hurry up," she mewed tensely to the toms of the Golden Trio.

"Not the stupid library again?" Redstone groaned.

The tabby Angora she-cat shook her head, pointing up a side passage. "It's Toadfall."

Toadfall was sitting alone halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same wide-eyed look he had worn when Mad-Eye demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse. Nightfang and his friends padded over to him, the former not knowing what to say.

"Toadfall?" Fawnwillow asked him, a rare gentle tone in her tomboyish voice. "You okay?"

Toadfall looked around, mewing in a higher-than-usual voice, "Oh hey. Exciting lesson, wasn't it? I can't wait to see what's for dinner. I'm...I'm starving, aren't you?"

Fawnwillow stared at him, concern in her orange eyes. "Toadfall, are you okay?"

"Never better!" the tabby tom gabbled in the same unusually high voice. "Very exciting dinner...I mean lesson...um, what's for eating?"

Redstone gave Nightfang a startled look before looking back. "Toadfall, what the hell-"

But a strange clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Mad-Eye limping to them. All four cats fell silent, watching him uneasily, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard.

"It's okay, lad," he told Toadfall. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on...we can have a cup of tea...better than hot chocolate for calming the nerves."

Toadfall looked even more scared at the prospect of having tea with the dark gray tom. He neither moved nor spoke.

Mad-Eye turned his magical eye upon Nightfang. "You all right, Potter?"

"Yes," Nightfang replied almost defiantly.

Mad-Eye's green eye vibrated slightly in its socket as it measured him. Then he rasped, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, yes, but _you've got to know_. No point pretending. Well...come on, Longbottom. I've got some books that might interest you."

Toadfall looked piteously at the Golden Trio, but they didn't say anything. So he had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, Mad-Eye's scarred flat muzzle nudging him along.

"What the hell was that about?" Redstone asked, watching the two cats turn around the corner.

"To be honest, I have no idea," Fawnwillow replied, looking thoughtful.

But when as they stared after the tabby, Redstone remarked, "That Mad-Eye is great, isn't he? Completely crazy, of course. Terrifying to be in the same room with him. But he's really been there, you know? He's looked evil in the eye!"

"There's a reason those are called unforgivable," Fawnwillow muttered.

As they all set off for the Great Hall, Redstone meowed to Nightfang, "That was some lesson, though, huh? Berrytail and Cherrynose were right. Mad-Eye _really_ knows his stuff. When he did Avada Kedavra, the way that mouse just died...ended it right there..."

But he fell suddenly silent at the look on Nightfang's lean face and didn't speak again until they reached the Great Hall. There, he said they should go ahead and make a start on Mistbright's predictions tonight since they would take hours.

Fawnwillow did not join in with their conversation during dinner, for she ate as fast as a shrew and then left for the library again. The two toms walked back to LionClan Tower, and Nightfang, who had been thinking of nothing else, now raised the subject of the Unforgivable Curses.

"Wouldn't Mad-Eye and Silverstar get in trouble with the Government if they knew we saw the curses?" he asked as they approached the Fat Queen.

"Probably," Redstone replied, shrugging. "But Silverstar's always done things right his way, hasn't he? And Mad-Eye's been getting in trouble for years. Attack first, ask questions later. I mean, look at his owner's dogs. Boulder dash."

The Fat Queen swung forth to reveal the entrance hole, and they climbed into the LionClan den room, which was crowded and noisy with cats.

"Should we get our Divination stuff, then?" Nightfang asked. "You suggested it, after all."

Redstone groaned. "Fine."

So they went up to the dorm to get their books and charts, but they found Toadfall there alone, sitting on his bed and reading. He looked a lot calmer than at the end of Mad-Eye's lesson, but he was still not entirely normal. His eyes were rather bloodshot red as he scanned through the book he got from Mad-Eye.

"You all right?" Nightfang asked.

Toadfall looked at them and nodded. "Oh, I'm fine, thanks. Just reading this book Mad-Eye lent me." He held up the book called _Magical Aquatic Plants of the Caribbean._

"Apparently, Sproutflower told Mad-Eye I'm really good at Herbology," Toadfall purred. There was a faint note of pride in his voice that Nightfang had hardly heard there before. "He thought I'd like this."

Telling Toadfall what Sproutflower had said, Nightfang thought, had been a very thoughtful way of cheering him up, for the tabby tom very rarely heard that he was good at anything. It was the sort of thing Wolfclaw would have done, Nightfang thought on broodingly. He wished the light brown tabby Norwegian Forest cat was still teaching, but it was all in the past.

The two toms took their copies of _Unfogging the Future_ back down to the den room, found a table, and set to work on their predictions for the coming moon. An hour later, they had made little progress, though their table was littered with scrolls presenting sums and symbols, and Nightfang's brain was as clouded as if it was filled with the fumes from Mistbright's fire.

He stared down at a long list of calculations and hissed, "StarClan dammit. I don't know what this is supposed to mean."

"You know," Redstone replied, whose fur was on end because of all the times he had run his paw through it in frustration. "I think it's back to the old Divination fallback plan."

"You mean...make it up?"

Redstone nodded, sweeping the jumble of scrawled notes off the table, dipping his quill into ink. As he started to write, he muttered, "Next Monday, I might develop a cough, due to the unlucky unification of Mars and Jupiter." He looked up at Nightfang's surprised look and meowed, "Hey, stop staring at me. You know her; just put in loads of misery, and she'll lap it up like a poodle."

Nightfang nodded, crushing his first try and tossing it over the heads of chattering first year cats into the fire. "Okay...on Monday, I will be in danger of...uh...burns."

"Yeah, you will be," Redstone replied darkly. "We'll be seeing the skrewts on Monday. Okay, on Tuesday, I'll...er..."

"Lose a prized treasure," Nightfang mewed, flicking through Unfogging the Future for ideas.

Redstone copied it down. "Good one. Because of...Mercury. Why don't you get stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend?"

Nightfang wrote it down. "Yeah...cool. 'Cause Venus is in the twelfth house."

"And on Wednesday, I think I'll get beaten up in a fight."

"Aww, I was gonna have a fight. Okay, I'll lose a bet."

"Yeah, you'll be betting I'll win my fight! Ha!"

They continued to make up guesses (which grew more tragic) for another hour, while the den room around them slowly emptied as cats went up to bed. Garfield wandered over to them, leapt lightly into an empty chair, and stared sternly at Nightfang. He was reminded of Fawnwillow looking at them like that if she knew they weren't doing their homework properly. But still, it was fun making fun of a very dull subject.

Staring around the room, trying to think of a misfortune he hadn't yet used, Nightfang saw the twins sitting together against the other wall, heads together, quills out, looking over a piece of scroll. It was strange to see Berrytail and Cherrynose hidden in a corner and working silently; they usually liked to be in chaos and the noisy center of attention. There was something private about the way they were working on the piece of parchment, and Nightfang was reminded of how they sat together writing something at the Tunnels. He had thought that it was another order form for Weasleys' Warrior Wheezes, but it didn't look like that now; if it had been, they would have let Quicktongue in on the joke. He wondered if it had anything to do with entering the Tri-warrior Tournament.

As Nightfang watched on, Cherrynose shook his head at Berrytail, scratched out something with his quill, and meowed, in a very quiet voice that still carried across the almost deserted room, "No...it'll sound like we're accusing him. Gotta be careful."

Then Cherrynose looked up and saw Nightfang watching him. The black cat gave him a very awkward and cheesy smile as he quickly returned to his predictions; he didn't want Cherrynose to think he was spying. The ginger tom gave him a weird look, but he went back to his work.

Shortly after that, the twins rolled up their parchment, said good night, and went off to bed. They had just been gone ten minutes or so when the picture hole opened and Fawnwillow climbed into the common room. The light brown tabby she-cat was carrying a bundle of scrolls and a box whose contents rattled in a bag as she walked. Garfield arched his back, squeaking happily as his owner greeted him before turning back to the toms.

"Hey," she meowed. "I've just finished!"

"So have I!" Redstone purred proudly, throwing down his quill.

Fawnwillow sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled his predictions toward her. "Not going to have a very fun moon, are you?" she asked sarcastically as Garfield curled up beside her.

Redstone gave a yawn, showing his fangs. "Ah well, at least I'm prepared."

"Looks like you're gonna drown twice," she suddenly meowed.

"Huh?" Redstone yelped, peering down at his predictions. "Huh...I better change one of them to getting trampled by a stampeding herd of bison."

Fawnwillow raised a brow at him. "Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?"

Redstone growled in mock outrage, "How dare you! We've been working like lemurs here!" But Fawnwillow's eyes narrowed, so he added hastily, "It's just an expression."

Nightfang laid down his quill too, having just finished predicting his own death by eating the red berries of a yew bush: deathberries. "What's in the box?" he asked, pointing a paw at it.

"Funny you should ask," the Angora mix meowed, giving Redstone a dirty look. She took off the lid and showed them the contents. Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors but all bearing the same letters: S.E.A.L.R

"Sealr?" Nightfang asked, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What is this?"

Fawnwillow sighed. "It's not sealr. It's S-E-A-L-R. Stands for the Society for the Elevation of Acceptable Lemur Rights."

"Never heard of it," Redstone spoke up.

"Well, of course you haven't," Fawnwillow meowed briskly. "I've only just started it."

Redstone's eyes brightened in mild surprise. "Really. How many members do you got?"

Fawnwillow replied, "One. But if you two join, then we'll have...three."

"And you expect us to walk around wearing badges saying 'sealr,'?" Redstone added.

"It's S-E-E-L-R!" Fawnwillow hissed hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Disgraceful Abuse of Our Fellow Animals and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status...but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our policy."

She brandished the scrolls at them and mewed, "I've been researching it carefully in the library. Lemur enslavement goes back centuries before the European Twolegs discovered the island of Madagascar. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

Redstone rolled his eyes. "Just open your ears and listen carefully. I got three little words for you to hear: _They. Like. It._ They like being slaves!"

"Our instant aims..." Fawnwillow meowed loudly, speaking even more loudly than him and acting as if she hadn't heard a word, "...are to secure lemur's fair earnings and working settings. Our lasting aims include changing the law about the lack of tail-wand use and trying to get a lemur into the Branch for the Ruling and Control of Other Animals because they're appallingly understated."

"And _how_ do we do all this?" Nightfang asked, feeling very confused now.

Fawnwillow purred, "We start by recruiting members. Two Sickles to join (that buys a badge), and the proceeds can fund our flyer campaign. You're the accountant, Redstone; I've got you a collecting box upstairs. And Nightfang, you're the typist, so you might want to write down what I'm saying now as a record of our first meeting."

There was a pause in which she smiled at them, and Nightfang sat, torn between exasperation at Fawnwillow and amusement at the look on Redstone's face. The silence was broken, not by Redstone, who looked like he was briefly dumbstruck, but by a soft tapping on the window. Quickly, Nightfang looked across the now empty den room and saw, illumined by the moonlight, a white-feathered owl perched on the windowsill.

"Katara!" he yowled, leaping out of his chair and across the room to pull open the window. The barn owl/snowy owl mix flew inside, soared across the room, and landed on the table on top of his predictions. So Nightfang turned after her, calling, "About time! Good job, girl!"

"She's got an answer!" Redstone purred excitedly, pointing a paw at the muddy piece of scroll tied to Katara's right leg.

Nightfang hastily untied it and laid down on a sofa to read it. In the meantime, Katara fluttered down onto his back, hooting softly.

"What's it say?" Fawnwillow asked breathlessly.

The letter was very short and looked like it was written a great hurry. Nightfang read it aloud:

_Nightfang,_

_I'm coming back to Alaska right away. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of odd rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go to Silverstar; they say he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs even if no one else is. I'll be in touch soon. My best wishes to Redstone and Fawnwillow. Keep your eyes open and your ears pricked up, Nightfang_

_Padfoot_

Nightfang looked up at his friends, Fawnwillow looking back at him in shock. "He's coming back?" she whispered. "Back to Alaska?"

"Silverstar's reading what signs?" Redstone asked, looking just as perplexed. "Nightfang? What's up, buddy?"

Nightfang had just slapped himself in the forehead with his paw, jostling Katara off of his back and onto the table. "I shouldn't have told him!" he hissed furiously.

Redstone mewed, "Huh? What are you meowing about?"

"It's made him think he has to come back!" Nightfang growled, now slamming his paw down on the table so that Katara landed on the back of Redstone's chair, hooting huffily. "Coming back just because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And Katara, I don't have anything for you," he snapped at his owl, who was clicking her beak keenly. "You'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want any food."

Katara gave him a very upset look and took off for the open window. But then she ended up cuffing him on the head with her outstretched wing as she soared past him. He knew he had to make it up to her, but tonight wasn't the night to do it.

"Nightfang..." Fawnwillow began in a soothing voice.

Nightfang got to his paws and leapt down from the sofa. "I'm going to bed," he mewed shortly as he looked over his shoulder on the steps. "See you in the morning."

Upstairs in the dorm, he groomed his tail and got into his nest, but he didn't feel slightly tired. If Padfoot came back and got caught, it would be his...Nightfang's...fault. He hissed to himself, _Why didn't I keep my mouth shut? A few seconds' pain, and I had to go and blab away. If I had just had the sense to keep it to myself..._

He heard Redstone come up into the dorm a short while later but did not speak to him. For a long time, Nightfang lay staring up at the dark canopy of his nest. The dorm was fully silent, and, if he had been less pensive, he would have realized that the lack of Toadfall's usual snores meant that he was not the only cat lying awake.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: Well...that was an interesting chapter. I even liked how "Moody" went like "And HEAR across classrooms!" before throwing the chalk. That's what made that part really funny.**

**Harry: (Smiles) Yeah...and even though that Moody was... (Whispers quietly) ...fake, he was still kinda funny like that.**

**AvatarCat12: Yeah, he sure was. And so far, the three weeks I've spent up here are okay. But still...I just can't wait to go home; I miss my mom, my brother, my sister, and all four of our dogs.**

**Harry: So you're homesick?**

**AvatarCat12: A little. But anyways, let's go on with the review thing and get this chapter done. (To the readers) Read and review, everyone! Those who do will get a virtual voodoo doll of Brokenstar from Warrior Cats. That way, you can already beat him up without having to be in the books. Flames will not be allowed on here; either keep 'em away or they'll be used to make S'Mores. Advice and constructive criticism are allowed, but just make sure that it's not too harsh.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	15. The Oasis And The Mountain

**AvatarCat12: Hey everyone! Just to let you know, last chapter was gonna be when there was gonna be a break for the Golden Trio. But Harry had come over to help me out with the commentary. So today, neither Ron nor Hermione will show up until the next chapter.**

**Anyways, so far, things are doing okay up here in Pennsylvania. Nothing exciting much happens at my grandparents' house, but it's fine. Especially helping out with taking care of my cousin's one-year-old son. He's a handful! **

**But anyways, on with the disclaimer! And the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Warrior Cats will never belong to me. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter are the proud owners of those two.**

**Uploading Date: October 23, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Oasis And The Mountain**_

Early the next morning, Nightfang woke up with a plan formed in his mind as if his sleeping brain had worked on it all night. He got up, groomed himself in the pale dawn light, left the dorm without waking Redstone, and went back down to the deserted den room. Here, he took a piece of scroll from the table where his Divination homework still laid and wrote this letter:

_Dear Padfoot,_

_I think I just imagined my scar hurting. I was just half asleep when I wrote to you last time. There's no point coming back; everything's fine here. Don't worry about me. My head feels completely normal now._

_Sincerely, Nightfang_

He then climbed out of the portrait hole, up through the silent castle, but he was held up only briefly by the Joker, who tried to upturn a large urn on him halfway along the fourth-floor corridor. Finally, he ended up arriving at the Owlery, which was set at the top of West Tower.

The Owlery was a spherical stone room, cold and drafty because none of the windows had glass in them. The floor was entirely covered in straw and the vomited skeletons of mice and voles. Hundreds upon hundreds of owls of every species possible were nestled here on perches that rose right up to the top of the tower, nearly all of them asleep, though a round amber eye often glared at Nightfang. He spotted Katara nestled between a barn owl and a snowy owl (owls from whom she had their blood), and hurried over to her, sliding a little on the pellet-strewn floor.

It took him a while to coax her to wake up and then look at him, as she kept shuffling around on her perch, showing him her tail feathers. She was clearly still furious about his lack of gratitude the previous night. In the end, Nightfang guessed she might be too tired and that he would ask Redstone to borrow Sheepinton that made her stick out her leg and let him tie the letter to it.

"Just find him, okay?" Nightfang asked, stroking her back as he carried her on his back to one of the holes in the wall. "Before the Dementors do."

She nipped his ear, perhaps rather harder than she would ordinarily do, but she hooted softly in a reassuring way all the same. Then she spread her wings and took off into the sunrise. Nightfang watched her fly out of sight with the familiar feeling of unease back in his belly. He had been so sure that Padfoot's reply would lessen his worries rather than increasing them.

"You DO know that was a lie, right?" Fawnwillow meowed sharply at breakfast when he told her and Redstone what he did. "You _didn't_ imagine your scar hurting, and you know it."

Nightfang shrugged. "So what? He's not going back to prison because of me."

But as the Angora mix opened her mouth to argue some more, Redstone told them both in an unusually stern voice, "Drop it, you two."

For once, she fell silent.

**...**

Nightfang did his best not to worry about Padfoot over the next half-moon or so. True, he could not stop himself from looking uneasily around every morning when the post owls arrived, nor, at night before he went to sleep, stop himself from seeing horrible visions of Padfoot, cornered by Dementors in a dark swamp, but he tried to keep his mind off his godfather. He wished he still had AirBall to distract him; nothing worked better on a troubled mind than a good hard training session. On the other paw, their lessons had become harder and tougher than ever, mostly Mad-Eye's Defense Against the Dark Arts.

To their surprise, Mad-Eye had announced that he would put the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects. As he cleared away the desks with a sweep of his paw, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room, Fawnwillow was shocked.

"But you said it's illegal," she meowed uncertainly. "You said to use it against another cat was-"

"Silverstar wants you taught what it feels like," the dark gray tom retorted, his mechanical eye swiveling onto her and fixing her with an unnerving unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn it the hard way when someone puts it on you so they can control you, then fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled claw toward the door, but Fawnwillow did not move. Instead, she went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Nightfang and Redstone grinned at each other; they knew she would rather eat rabbit droppings than miss such an important lesson.

Mad-Eye began to beckon cats forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Nightfang watched as, one by one, his peers did the most unusual things under its power. Ashfoot hopped three times around the room, singing the American national anthem. Browntuft imitated a ground squirrel, acting like she was eating pine nuts. Toadfall performed a series of amazing gymnastics he would certainly not do in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Mad-Eye removed it.

"Potter," Mad-Eye growled. "You next."

Nightfang moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space Mad-Eye had cleared of desks. He raised his paw, pointed it at Nightfang, and yowled, _"Imperio!"_

It was the most wonderful feeling he ever felt. Nightfang felt a floating feeling as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague faint happiness. He stood there feeling massively relaxed, only faintly aware of everyone watching him. And then he heard Mad-Eye's voice, echoing in a distant chamber of his empty brain:

_Jump onto the desk...jump onto the desk..._

Nightfang bent low obediently, preparing to spring.

_Jump onto the desk..._

_Why?_ Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain. _Stupid thing to do, really, _it went on as he almost stood up.

_Jump onto the desk..._

_No I won't, thanks,_ said the other voice, a little more firmly. _No, I don't really want to._

_Jump! NOW!_

The next thing Nightfang felt was sizable pain. He had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping; the result was that he had smashed hurriedly into the desk knocking it over, and, by the feeling in his legs, injured both his hind paws. Suddenly, Nightfang felt the empty echoing feeling in his mind disappear. He remembered just what was happening, and the pain in his hindpaws now seemed to double.

"Now, that's more like it!" Mad-Eye growled appreciatively. To the class, he went on, "Look at that, you lot. Potter fought it! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you pay attention! Watch his eyes, everyone; that's where you see it! Very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"

**...**

An hour later, Mad-Eye hobbled out of the Defense Against The Dark Arts class when it was over. He had insisted on putting Nightfang through his pace four times until he could throw off the curse entirely.

"By the way he talks..." Nightfang groaned as he limped with his friends, "...you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."

"Yeah, I know," Redstone mewed, skipping every few steps. He had had much more difficulty with the curse than Nightfang, though Mad-Eye guaranteed him the effects would wear off by lunch. "Talk about paranoid!"

The American Shorthair peeked nervously over his shoulder to check that Mad-Eye was out of earshot and went on. "No wonder they were glad to get rid of him at the Government. Did you hear him telling Sandfur what he did to that she-cat who shouted 'Boo!' behind him on April Fools' Day? And how can we read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we've got to do?"

All the fourth year cats had noticed a sure increase in the work they had to do for this term. Thistleheart explained why when the class gave a loud groan at the amount of Transfiguration homework she had assigned them.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" she told them, her green eyes glinting sternly. "Your Ordinary Warrior Levels are drawing closer..."

"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" Ashfoot called indignantly.

"Maybe not, Mr. Thomas, but you need all the training you can get!" the Oriental Shorthair mix retorted. "Miss Granger is the only cat in this class who has managed to turn a rabbit into a satisfactory pillow. I might remind you that _your_ pillow, Thomas, still hops away if anyone approaches it with a pillowcase!"

Fawnwillow, who had blushed again, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself.

Nightfang and Redstone were very amused when Mistbright told them that they had received top marks for their homework in their next Divination class. She read out large rations of their predictions, praising them for their steady acceptance of the horrors in store for them. But they were less amused when she told them to do the same thing for moon after moon; both of them were running out of ideas for disasters.

Meanwhile, Franklin Binns, the tortoise ghost who taught History of Warriorism, had the fourth years write articles on the monkey revolts of the seventeen hundreds. Brokenfang was forcing them to research antidotes, and they took this one seriously, for he had hinted that he might poison one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Shortlegs had asked them to read three extra books in homework for their lesson on Summoning Charms.

Even Badgerstripe, gentle giant that he was, was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a notable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Badgerstripe was delighted, and as part of their "project", he suggested that they come down to his cabin on alternate evenings to watch the skrewts and make notes on their strange behavior.

"No," Iceheart hissed flatly when Badgerstripe had proposed this with the air of Santa Claus pulling a big toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these uncouth things during lessons, thanks."

Badgerstripe's smile faded off his face as he growled, "Yeh'll either do what yer told or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Mad-Eye's book. I hear yeh made a good ferret," he added with a chuckle.

All the LionClan cats yowled with laughter. Iceheart hissed in anger, but the memory of Mad-Eye's punishment was still satisfactorily painful to stop him from retorting. The Golden Trio returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Badgerstripe put Iceheart down was very satisfying, mainly because he had tried to get the big black cat fired the in previous year.

When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to go on owing to the large crowd of cats congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the sandstone staircase. Redstone, the smallest of the three, squeezed through the crowd, beckoning his friends with him, and read the sign aloud to the other two:

TRI-WARRIOR TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM THE OASIS AND THE MOUNTAIN WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 P.M. ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY.

"Great!" Nightfang cheered. "Potions class is last on Friday! Brokenfang won't poison us all!"

APPRENTICES WILL RETURN THEIR BELONGINGS TO THEIR DORMS AND GATHER IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

"It's only a quarter-moon away!" Birchfrost of BadgerClan cheered, emerging from the crowd as his brown eyes gleamed. "I wonder if Oakheart knows? Think I'll go and tell him."

As the Exotic Shorthair sped off, Redstone asked blankly, "Oakheart?"

"Diggory," Nightfang reminded him. "He's probably entering the tournament."

"That idiot? Guardian of the Forest?" Redstone growled as they pushed their way through the chatting crowd towards the staircase.

"He's _not_ an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat our Clan in AirBall," Fawnwillow retorted, sounding as if this settled the matter. "I've heard he's a really good cat...and a prefect."

Redstone hissed scathingly, "You only like him because he's handsome."

Fawnwillow looked at him as if he stole some fresh-kill from under her nose. "Excuse me? I don't like cats just because they're handsome!"

With her back turned, Redstone gave a loud false cough which sounded like "Lockhart!"

**...**

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a clear effect upon the residents of the castle. During this quarter-moon, there seemed to be only one topic of talk, no matter where Nightfang prowled: the Tri-warrior Tournament. Rumors were flying from cat to cat like greencough: who was going to try for the guardian of the Forest, what the tournament would involve, and how the cats from the Oasis and the Mountain differed from themselves.

Nightfang also saw that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy pictures had been brushed, much to the annoyance of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering and wincing as they felt their raw faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Oscar Filch, the custodian, was behaving fiercely to any cats who forgot to wipe their paw. So furiously, perhaps, that he frightened a pair of first-year she-cats into hysterics. Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

"Longbottom, please do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from the Mountain!" Thistleheart barked at the end of one difficult lesson, during which Toadfall had displaced his own ears onto a fern bush by accident.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated during the night. Huge flags hung from the walls, each of them on behalf of a Clan of the Forest: ruby with a golden lion for LionClan, sapphire with a bronze eagle for RavenClan, golden with a black badger for BadgerClan, and emerald with a silver snake for ViperClan. Behind the mentors' table, the largest flag of all bore the Forest crest: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter F.

The Golden Trio sat down beside the Weasley twins at the LionClan table. Once again, and most oddly, they were sitting apart from everyone else and talking in low voices. Redstone led the way over to them, and they could hear their low voices among the crowd.

"It's a downer, all right," Cherrynose was telling Berrytail gloomily. "But if he won't talk to us personally, we'll have to send him the letter stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" Redstone asked, sitting down next to them.

Berrytail glared up at him, looking annoyed at the interruption. "Wish _you_ would."

So Redstone turned over to Cherrynose. "What's a downer?"

Cherrynose glared at him too. "Having a snooping mouse-brain like you for a brother."

"You got any ideas on the Tri-warrior Tournament yet?" Nightfang asked, trying to make the chat light. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

"I asked Thistleheart of how the guardians are chosen, but she didn't tell," Cherrynose replied bitterly. "She basically told me to shut up and start transfiguring my possum."

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" Redstone mewed thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Nightfang. We've done dangerous stuff before, remember?"

"Not in front of judges," Berrytail retorted. "Thistleheart says the guardians get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

Nightfang tilted his head to the side. "Who are the judges?" he asked.

"Well, the leaders of the partaking schools are always on the panel," Fawnwillow meowed, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised. "Because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1812, when a bull African elephant the guardians had to catch went on the rampage."

She noticed them all looking at her and added, with her impatience that nobody else had read all the books but she, "It's all in The History Of The Forest...though that book's not totally reliable. A Revised History Of The Forest would be a more exact title. Or A Highly Unfair and Selective History of The Forest, Which Lusters Over the Nastier Aspects of the Damn School!"

"What the hell are you meowing about?" Redstone asked, but Nightfang knew what was coming.

"Lemurs!" Fawnwillow spat, her tawny eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does the History Of The Forest mention that we are all plotting in the cruelty of a hundred slaves!"

Nightfang just shook his head and went back to chewing on his salmon. His and Redstone's lack of interest had done nothing whatsoever to control Fawnwillow's willpower to pursue justice for house-lemurs.

True, both of them paid two Sickles for a badge, but they had only done it to shut her up. Their Sickles had been wasted, however; if anything, they seemed to have made the Angora mix even more vocal. She had been hassling the toms ever since, first to wear the badges, then to sway others to do the same. Not only that, but she had also taken to ranting around the den room every evening, cornering cats and shaking the collecting box under their noses.

She would even keep hissing fiercely, "Did you know that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food made by a group of endangered Madagascan pro-simian primates who are unpaid and enslaved?!"

Some cats (like Toadfall) had paid up just to stop her from glaring at them. A few seemed mildly interested in what she had to say, but they were averse to take a more active role in protest. Many viewed the whole thing as a joke. Redstone now rolled his blue eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding them all in leaf-fall sunlight, and Berrytail became interested in his sausages (both twins had refused to buy a badge).

Cherrynose, however, leaned in towards her. "Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens?"

"No," Fawnwillow retorted curtly. "Besides, I heard apprentices are forbidden to-"

"Well, we have," Cherrynose meowed. "Berrytail and I. Loads of times to steal some food. I wouldn't really call it stealing. We've met those critters, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world-"

But Fawnwillow began hotly, "That's because they're unschooled and hypnotized-!"

But her next words were drowned out by the sudden rustling noise of wings, which announced the arrival of the owls. Nightfang looked up and saw Katara soaring towards him. Fawnwillow stopped talking sharply as she looked up too. She and Redstone watched the female owl keenly as she fluttered down onto her master's back, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily.

Nightfang pulled off his godfather's reply and offered Katara some salmon meat, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking that the twins were safely absorbed in further discussions about the Tournament, he read out the letter in a whisper to his friends.

_Nightfang,_

_Nice try, but I'm back in the U.S.A. and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at school. Don't use Katara constantly. Just keep changing owls. And don't worry about me; just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar._

_Padfoot_

"Why do you have to keep changing owls?" Redstone asked in a low voice. "Katara won't like that one bit."

"She'll attract too much attention," Fawnwillow meowed at once. "She stands out. A snowy owl mix that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding will sound too weird. I mean, snowy owls aren't native birds in southern Alaska, are they? They're usually found near the arctic."

Nightfang rolled up the letter and slipped it in his bag, wondering if he felt more or less worried than before. He supposed that Padfoot managing to get back to America without getting caught was something. He couldn't reject either that the idea that he was much nearer was reassuring; at least he wouldn't have to wait long for a response every time he wrote.

"Thanks, Katara," he purred, stroking her. "Sorry I snapped some time ago. Now get up to the Owlery. You deserve a nice rest."

Katara hooted sleepily, dipped her beak briefly into his chalice of grape juice, and took off again. She was clearly desperate for a good long sleep in the Owlery.

There was a pleasing feeling of eagerness in the air that day. Nobody was very alert in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the cats of the Oasis and the Mountain; even Potions was more bearable than usual since it was half an hour shorter.

When the bell rang early, the Golden Trio hurried up to LionClan Tower, left their stuff as they had been instructed, and ran back downstairs into the entrance hall. The Heads of Clans were ordering their students into lines, Thistleheart's yowl being the loudest. Nightfang guessed she was happy to be part Oriental Shorthair; this breed tends to be loud.

"Mr. Weasley, straighten your tail up," Thistleheart was telling Redstone sharply. "Miss Patil, take that ludicrous thing out of your fur. Do not look like a hedgehog in front of the guests!"

Daisystem frowned, but she removed a large ornate butterfly from the end of her head fur. When this was done, Thistleheart called, "Follow me, please! First years in front! No pushing!"

They marched down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold clear evening on Kodiak Island; twilight was falling, and a pale transparent moon was already shining over the Forbidden Swamp. Nightfang, standing between his friends in the fourth row from the front, saw Volepaw shivering with eagerness among the other first year cats.

"Nearly six," Redstone mewed, looking at the moon and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How do you think they're coming? The train?"

"I bet they'll want to make an entrance," Fawnwillow replied. "But still, I doubt it."

"How, then? Wings?" Nightfang suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

Fawnwillow shook her bushy head. "I don't think so...not from that far away..."

Redstone suggested, "A Portkey? Or they maybe could Apparate; maybe you can do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Fawnwillow sighed impatiently. "You can't Apparate inside the Forest grounds! Read The History Of The Forest sometime, why don't you?"

They skimmed the dimming grounds excitedly, but nothing was moved, not even a mouse. Every living thing was still, silent, and quite as usual. Nightfang was starting to feel cold and wished they would hurry up. Maybe the foreign cats were preparing for a dramatic entrance; he recalled what Weaseltail said back at the campsite before the AirBall World Trophy: "Always the same. We can't resist showing off when we gather."

And then Silverstar called from the back row where he stood with the other mentors, "Aha! Unless I am mistaken, the allocation from the Oasis of France arrives!"

"Where?" many cats asked eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year tabby, pointing over the woods.

Something big, much bigger than an owl...or a hundred owls...was hurtling across the deep blue sky towards the castle, growing larger all the time. Down below, loads of cats were wondering what that thing was.

"It's a dragon!" a first-year she-cat wailed, losing her head completely.

"No way! It's a flying house!" Volepaw yowled.

But Volepaw's guess was closer.

As the vast black shape skimmed over the treetops of the swamp and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw it. A huge powder-blue horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, was soaring at them, pulled through the air by a dozen flying horses, all pintos, and each the size of an Asian elephant. The front three rows of cats drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a swift speed. Even Badgerstripe, who was directing where it was going to land, had to jump out of the way to avoid getting run over.

And then, with a crash that made Toadfall jump backward onto a ViperClan fifth year cat's paw, the horses' hooves, larger than bullfrogs, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large aqua blue eyes.

Nightfang just had time to see that the door of the coach bore a coat of arms (two crossed golden sticks, each releasing three stars) before it opened. A ring-tailed lemur in pale blue robes jumped down from the coach, bent forward, fumbled with something on the floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps, leaping back respectfully. Then Nightfang saw a large black paw emerging from the inside of the carriage (a paw the size of a rabbit) followed immediately by the largest she-cat he had ever seen in his life. The size of the carriage and the horses, was immediately explained, and a few cats gasped.

Nightfang had only met a cat as large as this she-cat in his life, and that was Badgerstripe; he doubted if there was a difference in their heights. Yet somehow (maybe simply because he was used to Badgerstripe), this she-cat, who was at the foot of the steps and looking around at the wide-eyed crowd, seemed even more unusually large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a big broad face; large blue eyes, and black fur over her face. Her white fur was groomed to maximum silkiness, she seemed to have a stumpy tail, and many glorious opals shined at her throat and on her big black paws.

"Great StarClan..." Sandfur rasped. "That's one big she-cat!"

Silverstar started to clap; the apprentices, following his lead, broke into applause, many of them standing on their hind legs to look at this cat. Her face relaxed into a kind smile as she walked forth toward Silverstar, nodding her giant head. Silverstar, though he was quite a large Persian, had to stand on his hind legs to lick her muzzle.

"My dear Fuzzystar Maxime," he purred. "Welcome to the Forest."

"Silvery-star," Fuzzystar purred in a deep French voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

Silverstar nodded. "In excellent form, thank you," he told her with a smile.

Fuzzystar wagged her stumpy tail carelessly behind her. "My apprentices have arrived."

Nightfang, whose attention was focused upon Fuzzystar, now saw that about a dozen cats, all juveniles, had emerged from the coach and were now standing behind their leader. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that they had scarves made of fine silk and shawls around their heads. From what he saw of them (they were standing in Fuzzystar's enormous shadow), the Oasis cats were staring at the Forest cats with uneasy looks on their faces.

"'As Coldstar arrived yet?" Fuzzystar asked.

"He should be here any moment now," Silverstar meowed. "Would you like to wait and greet him or step inside and warm up?"

Fuzzystar nodded. "Warm up, I think. But ze horses..."

Silverstar purred, "Our Care of Other Animals mentor will be happy to take care of them. But he'll have to return soon. He is dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other...charges."

"Skrewts," Redstone muttered to Nightfang, smirking.

"My steeds require...forceful 'andling," Fuzzystar mewed, looking as if she doubted if any Care of Other Animals cat at the Forest could be up to the job.

"Badgerstripe can handle anything."

"But zey are very strong."

Silverstar smiled. "I assure you that Badgerstripe will be well up to the job."

Finally, the large white she-cat dipped her head slightly to him. "Very well. Will you please inform zis Badgerstripe zat ze horses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"I shall," Silverstar replied, also bowing.

Fuzzystar gave an authoritative yowl to her cats, and the Forest crowd parted to allow her and her apprentices to prowl up the stone steps.

"How big you think the horses from the Mountain are gonna be?" Sandfur asked, leaning around Browntuft and Daisystem to talk to Nightfang and Redstone.

Nightfang shrugged. "Well, if they're any bigger than these, even Badgerstripe won't be able to handle them. That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they escaped," Redstone purred hopefully.

"That's not really a good thing," Fawnwillow squeaked from the cold. "They'd be loose on the grounds next!"

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the cats of the Mountain to arrive. Most cats were gazing hopefully up at the sky with their tails waving. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Fuzzystar's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then...

"Hey, can you hear something?" Redstone asked suddenly.

Nightfang listened; a loud and creepy noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness. It was a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as if a huge whirlpool was moving along a riverbed.

"The sea!" Quicktongue yowled, pointing down at it. "Look at the sea!"

From their position at the top of the lawns facing the grounds, the cats had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water...except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center of the sea. Great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks...and then, out in the middle of the sea, a whirlpool really DID appear, as if a giant plug was pulled out of the seafloor. What seemed to be a long black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool...and then Nightfang saw the rigging.

"It's a ship's mast!" he hissed.

Slowly and magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as if it was a resurrected wreck, and the dim misty lights shining at its windows looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great spilling noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the choppy water, and began to glide to land. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the sandbanks, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

Cats were disembarking; they could see their outlines passing the lights in the ship's windows. All of them, Nightfang saw, seemed to be built like Lobsterclaw and Monkeynose, but then, as they drew nearer, padding up the lawns into the light streaming from the hall, he saw that their bulk was due to wearing capes of shaggy knotted yak fur. But the cat who was leading them to the castle was wearing a pelt of a different sort: sleek and black like his fur.

"Silverstar!" he called enthusiastically as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my fellow, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you, Coldstar Karkaroff," Silverstar replied.

Coldstar had a rich but smug voice. When he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors, they saw that he was actually a silver tabby cat like Dumbledore, but his fur was shorter, and he actually looked like a European Shorthair. When he reached Silverstar, he bowed his head down low, showing large horn-like ears.

"Dear old Forest," he purred, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were yellow, but Nightfang saw that his smile did not extend to his blue eyes, which remained cold and sharp. "How good it is to be here, how good. Earthclaw, come into the warmth. You don't mind, do you, Dumbledore? He has a slight head cold."

The other silver tabby tom signaled forward one of his cats. As the cat passed, Nightfang caught a glimpse of a projecting muzzle and thick dark tabby fur. He didn't need the nudge on the back Redstone gave him or the hiss in his ear to recognize that profile.

"Nightfang...it's Earthclaw Krum!"

_**To be continued...**_

_****_**...**

**AvatarCat12: I'm glad this chapter's done! Sorry about not uploading the right chapter, but I've fixed it! But there's one thing I forgot to tell you about: Survivor Dogs.**

**On Friday October 12th, my aunt took me to a Barnes And Noble out of town, and I got Yellowfang's Secret and Survivors: The Empty City. And Survivor Dogs...was awesome! Not as great as Warrior Cats or Seeker Bears, but it's still great! I don't care that this series is written by another team of Erin Hunters, but it's awesome! Especially Lucky; he's my favorite dog so far along with Mickey, Bruno, and Martha.**

**Sorry about the talking going on there. Read and review, folks! Those who review will get either a virtual figurine of a flying stagecoach or a virtual figurine of a ship. If not, then a plush doll of your favorite Survivor Dog will do. I allow constructive criticism and advice on here, but I don't let flames onto here. At all.**

**See ya next time!**


	16. The Trophy Of Fire

**AvatarCat12: Hey everyone! We're ready for the sixteenth chapter of Nightfang Potter And The Trophy Of Fire to be uploaded and ready for reading! Plus, this chapter will be the turning point for now (not to mention it's the title of the FanFic). Ron didn't want to come for this one, so welcome Hermione once again!**

**Hermione: (Comes into the office) Hey, Avatar Cat. So you've kept yourself busy, I see.**

**AvatarCat12: Yep. I just wanted to get some stuff done for FanFiction and then maybe upload the next ones soon enough. So is it okay for you to say the disclaimer this round?**

**Hermione: I'll see what I can do.**

**Disclaimer: You've all read this throughout the story. AvatarCat12 doesn't plan to own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats.**

**Uploading Date: October 26, 2012**

**Both: Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Trophy Of Fire**_

"I don't believe it!" Redstone gasped in a stunned voice as the Forest cats filed back up the steps behind the party from the Mountain. "It's really him! Earthclaw Krum!"

"For StarClan's sake, Redstone, he's only an AirBall player," Fawnwillow sighed.

The American Shorthair stared at her as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Only an AirBall player? Fawnwillow, he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I didn't know he was still at school!"

As they padded back into the entrance hall with the rest of the Forest cats heading for the Great Hall, Nightfang saw Quicktongue jumping up and down on his hind legs to get a better look at the back of Earthclaw's head. Several sixth-year she-cats were frenziedly searching their bags as they walked.

"Oh I don't believe it! I don't have a quill on me!"

"You think he'll sign my tail in lipstick?"

"Really?" Fawnwillow sniffed loftily as they passed the she-cats, now arguing over the lipstick.

"I'm getting his autograph if I can," Redstone meowed. "Nightfang, you got a quill on you?"

Nightfang shook his head. "Nope. They're upstairs in my bag."

They walked over to the LionClan table and sat down. Redstone took care to sit on the side facing the doorway, for Earthclaw and his fellow Mountain cats were still gathered around it, hesitant about where they should sit. The Oasis cats had chosen seats at the RavenClan table, thus making that unavailable. They were looking around the Great Hall with gloomy expressions on their faces; three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"It's not that cold," Fawnwillow mewed defensively. "Why didn't they bring robes?"

But Redstone was calling, "Over here! Come sit over here! Over here! Fawnwillow make some space over here!"

Fawnwillow frowned. "Huh?"

"Too late," Redstone sighed bitterly.

Earthclaw and his fellow Mountain cats had settled themselves at the ViperClan table. Nightfang could see Iceheart and his cronies looking very arrogant about this. As he watched on, Iceheart leaned his head forward to speak to the big dark tabby tom.

Redstone glared over at the ViperClan table. "Yeah, that's right. Suck up to him, Malfoy. I bet he can see right through him, though; bet he gets cat fawning over him all the time. Where do you think they'll sleep?" he mewed to his friends. "We could give him space in our dorm, Nightfang. I wouldn't mind giving him my nest. I could sleep on the floor."

Fawnwillow just snorted.

"They look a lot happier than the Oasis cats," Nightfang remarked.

He knew that was true. The Oasis cats were looking around the Great Hall with some disgust on their faces as if grasshoppers would land on their faces. The Mountain cats, however, were now pulling off their heavy Twoleg coats and looking up at the star-filled black ceiling with looks of interest. A couple cats were even picking up the golden plates and chalices and inspecting them, looking very impressed.

Up at the staff table, Oscar Filch, the dark brown custodian, was adding new chairs, wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. Nightfang was surprised to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Silverstar's seat.

He looked back at his friends and mewed, "But there are only two extra cats. Why's Oscar putting out four chairs? Who else is coming?"

"Huh?" Redstone asked vaguely, still staring ardently at Earthclaw.

When all the cats had entered the Hall and settled down at their Clan tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were the three leaders themselves: Silverstar from the Forest, Fuzzystar from the Oasis, and Coldstar from the Mountain. Nightfang recalled that it was time for the cats of the other schools to show their stuff.

When their leader appeared, the Oasis cats leapt to their feet. A few of the Forest cats laughed, but the Oasis cats appeared quite unembarrassed, however. They pranced around for a bit and did not resume their seats until Fuzzystar sat down on Silverstar's left-hand side. Redstone had been staring at the cats of the Oasis and studying the she-cats' tail. And Nightfang swore he purred, "Bloody hell!"

Soon enough, the cats of the Mountain leapt into action. Unlike the delicate prancing of the Oasis cats, the Mountain cats were leaping about, growling and unleashing fire from their claws. They used up their finale by unleashing a firey dragon, which roared to the heavens before dissolving into thin air.

Silverstar remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall after their applause.

"Good evening, toms and she-cats, ghosts and...guests very much," Silverstar purred, smiling around at the foreign cats. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to the Forest, School of Warriorism. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Oasis cats still wearing a Twoleg coat gave what was clearly a scathing laugh.

"Shut up! No one's making you stay!" Fawnwillow whispered, glaring at her.

Silverstar went on as if there was no interruption, "The tournament will be publicly opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home! Tuck in."

He sat down, and Nightfang saw Coldstar lean forward at once and steer him into conversation.

The plates in front of them filled with lots of food as usual. The house-lemurs in the kitchen seemed to have outdone themselves; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Nightfang had ever seen, including some that were foreign. He had never thought of eating foreign food before; he had never been allowed to eat any Twoleg food at Daniel's house before until first year.

Redstone pointed a paw at a large dish of shellfish stew that stood beside a large meatloaf. "Hey, what's that?"

"Bouillabaisse," Fawnwillow mewed.

"Bless you."

"It's French. I had it on greenleaf vacation last year. It's very good."

Redstone shrugged and dug into some chicken. "Whatever you say."

The Great Hall seemed more crowded than usual, even if there were barely twenty additional cats there. Perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Forest capes. Now that they had removed their coats, the Mountain cats were revealed to be wearing capes of deep scarlet.

Badgerstripe now edged into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at the Golden Trio with a very heavily bandaged paw. Despite that, though, he was smiling...but for some odd reason, Nightfang saw that two of his canine teeth were longer than the others when he closed his jaws.

"Skrewts doing all right?" Nightfang called.

"They're livin'," Badgerstripe called back happily. "Thanks for askin', kid!"

"Yeah, I'll bet they are," Redstone muttered quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like: Badgerstripe's paws."

At that moment, a female French voice mewed, "Excuse me. Are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was the Oasis she-cat who had laughed during Silverstar's speech. She had finally removed her coat, and a long mass of pure white fur, even brighter than snow, fell to her forepaws. She looked very attractive with deep blue eyes and very white fangs. Not only that, but her ears had black ear tufts, and her white pelt was decorated with small black spots, making her look much like a feline Dalmatian.

Redstone stared at her and opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise. So Nightfang pushed the dish to her and meowed, "Help yourself."

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

Redstone replied breathlessly, "Yeah...yeah, it was brilliant."

The white she-cat picked up the dish in her jaws and carried it carefully off to the RavenClan table. Redstone was still goggling at her as if he had never seen a she-cat before. Nightfang started to laugh about it, and the sound seemed to snap his friend back to his senses.

"She's a lynx!" he rasped hoarsely.

"No she's not!" Fawnwillow retorted tartly. "She's probably a Persian mix judging by her long fur! I don't see anyone else gaping at her like a moonstruck rabbit!"

But she was wrong about that. As the she-cat crossed the Hall, many toms' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become briefly stunned like Redstone. The ginger tom leaned sideways so that he could get a clear view of her. "I'm telling you, that's not a normal cat! They don't make them like that at the Forest!"

"They make them okay at the Forest," Nightfang meowed without thinking, looking over at the RavenClan table. Rainleaf happened to be sitting only a bit away from the she-cat with the black-spotted white fur.

Fawnwillow rolled her eyes. "When you're both done putting your eyes back in, then see what the ferret dragged in."

She was pointing her paw up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled, and Nightfang stared up. Graytail Bagman was now sitting on Coldstar's other side while Crouchfoot Crouch, Sandthorn's boss, sat next to Fuzzystar.

The British Shorthair mix was surprised. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"They organized the Tournament," Fawnwillow replied. "I'm guessing they wanted to be here to see it all start."

When the second course arrived, they noticed a number of unfamiliar and foreign desserts too. Redstone examined an odd pale blancmange closely and moved it to his right so that it would be visible from the RavenClan table. But the lynx-like she-cat appeared to have eaten enough, for she did not come over to get it.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Silverstar stood up again, pleasant tension filling the Hall now. Nightfang felt a slight buzz of excitement, wondering what was coming up next. Several seats down from them, the twins were leaning forward, staring at their leader with great concentration.

The silver tabby tom looked around, smiling at the sea of cats. "The moment has come at last. The Tri-warrior Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the coffer."

"The what?" Nightfang muttered.

Redstone shrugged.

"...just to explain the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them well, Mr. Crouchfoot Crouch, Head of the Branch of Worldwide Cooperation..." There was a smidgen of polite applause. "...and Mr. Graytail Bagman, Head of the Branch of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Graytail than for Crouchfoot, perhaps because of his fame as a Thrasher or because he looked more easygoing. The gray Siberian mix accepted it with a jovial wave of his paw, smiling wide. But Crouchfoot did not smile or even wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat cat suit at the World Trophy, Nightfang thought he looked strange as a wildcat. His thin figure and stern face looked very strange next to Silverstar's bright fur and flat face.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked untiringly over the last few moons on the measures for the Tournament," Silverstar continued. "And they will join Coldstar, Fuzzystar, and I on the panel that will judge the guardians' efforts."

At the mention of "guardians," the attention of the listening cats seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Silverstar had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled and added, "The coffer, then, if you please, Oscar."

Oscar, who was lurking unseen in a far corner of the Hall, now ran over to the leader, carrying a great old wooden chest encrusted with jewels in his jaws. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching cats; Volepaw actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but since he was so little, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The directions for the missions the guardians will face this year have already been inspected by Misters Crouch and Bagman," Silverstar meowed as Oscar placed the chest carefully on the table before him. "And they have made the necessary measures for each challenge. There will be three missions, spaced during the school year, and they will test the guardians in different ways: their magical skills, courage, reasoning, honor, and ability to handle danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to breathe.

Silverstar continued calmly, "As you know, three guardians compete in the tournament, one from each of the partaking schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each mission, and the guardian with the highest total after the final mission will win the Tri-warrior Trophy. The guardians will be chosen by a fair chooser: the Trophy of Fire."

He now flicked his tail and swished it around three times on top of the coffer. The lid groaned slowly open, and Silverstar reached inside it and pulled out a large roughly cleaved wooden cup. It would have been completely average if it wasn't filled to the brim with dancing blue flames. Silverstar closed the coffer and placed the chalice carefully on top of it, where it was visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody who wishes to submit themselves as a guardian must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of paper and drop it into the trophy," Silverstar meowed on. "Ambitious cats have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night on Halloween, the trophy will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. This treasure will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely available to all those who wish to compete."

Seeing the twins' eyes gleam, he went on, "To ensure that no juvenile cat is led into temptation, I will draw an Age Line around the Trophy of Fire once it is placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under seventeen years of age will be able to cross this line. Finally, I must tell any of you who wish to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a guardian has been selected, he or she must see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the trophy creates a binding magical contract. There can be no going back once you have become a guardian. Thus, please be sure that you are passionately prepared to play before you drop your name into here. The Tournament had begun." But then he cleared his throat and spoke agian.

"And now...a little music from our Forest choir."

So the choir of the school stepped forth as they began singing the school song of the Forest:

"_Oh great old Forest, Forest of wonders,_

_Teach us something, please._

_Whether we be elders_

_Or kits with shaky knees._

_Our heads should try to fill up_

_With some motivating stuff,_

_For now they're blank and full of air,_

_Cobwebs and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we forgot._

_Just do your best and we'll learn the rest,_

_So that all our brains shall not rot."_

The Forest cat cheered for them, but the Oasis and Mountain cats were staring at each other throughout the song, looking as if they couldn't believe what they were hearing. But when the song was over, they clapped along with their fellow felines.

"Now..." Silverstar purred, "...it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

So all the cats left their seats and made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance. Berrytail, whose eyes gleamed, yowled, "A freakin' Age Line?! Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, right?! And once your name's in that cup, you're laughing; it can't tell if you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," Fawnwillow meowed. "I think we just haven't learned enough."

"Speak for yourself," Cherrynose retorted shortly. "You gonna try and get in, Nightfang?"

Nightfang thought briefly of Silverstar's firmness that nobody under seventeen should offer their name, but then the superb picture of himself winning the Tournament filled his mind again. He wondered how furious Silverstar would be if someone younger than seventeen DID find a way to get over the Age Line.

"Where is he?" Redstone asked, not listening to a word of this but looking through the crowd to see where Earthclaw was. "Silverstar didn't say where the Mountain cats are sleeping, did he?"

But this question was answered almost instantly. They were level with the ViperClan table now, and Coldstar had just bustled up to his students with a flick of his tail.

The silver tabby tom was calling, "Back to the ship, everyone! Earthclaw, young fellow, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some warm wine from the kitchens for you?"

Nightfang saw Earthclaw shake his shaggy head as he pulled his furs back on.

"Sir, I vood like some vine," a fat Mountain cat purred hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to _you_, Poliakoff," Coldstar snapped at him, his warmly fatherly air waning almost right away into coldness. "I notice you have dribbled food all over your chest again, you disgusting little boy."

The leader of the Mountain turned and led his apprentices toward the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as the Golden Trio. Nightfang stopped where he was to let him walk through first.

"Thank you," Coldstar meowed hastily, glancing at him.

And then he froze. He turned his head back to the young black cat and stared at him as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their leader, his group came to a halt too. Coldstar's icy blue eyes moved slowly up Nightfang's lean face and fixed upon his scar. As if that wasn't enough, the Mountain cats were staring curiously at him too.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nightfang saw understanding dawn on a few of their faces. The cat with food on his chest nudged a she-cat next to him and pointed openly at Nightfang's forehead.

"Yeah, that's Nightfang Potter," a growling voice meowed from behind them.

Coldstar spun around and froze. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily onto the wall with his staff before him, his magical green eye glaring unblinkingly at the leader of the Mountain. The fur on Coldstar's neck began to rise as Nightfang watched, a terrible look of blended fury and fear came over him.

"You!" he snapped, staring at Mad-Eye as if unsure he was really seeing him.

"No, I'm just a mouse. Yes, it's me, you dolt," Mad-Eye retorted grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

The dark gray tom was right. Half the cats in the Hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

Without another word, Coldstar regained his composure and swept his apprentices away with him. Mad-Eye watched him until he was out of sight with his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense loathing upon his maimed face.

...

Since the next day was Saturday, most apprentices would usually have breakfast late. But the cats of the Golden Trio, however, were not alone in rising much earlier than they usually did on weekends.

When they went down into the entrance hall, they saw about twenty cats hanging around it, some of them eating fish but all examining the Trophy of Fire. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that the Sorting Collar would normally be on. A thin silver line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten tail-lengths around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Redstone asked a third-year ginger-&-white she-cat.

"All the Mountain cats did," she replied. "But I haven't seen a Forest cat do it yet."

"I bet some of them put it in last night after we went to bed," Nightfang added "I would if it was me; wouldn't want everyone watching. What if the Trophy just spat your name back out again?"

Someone laughed behind Nightfang. Turning around in time, he spotted the Weasley twins and Quicktongue hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking excited.

"Done it," Berrytail purred in a triumphant whisper to the Golden Trio. "Just took it."

Redstone asked, "What?"

Berrytail rolled his eyes. "The Aging Potion, frog-brains."

"One drop each," Cherrynose purred, kneading his paws on the stone floor with glee. "We only need to be a few moons older."

"We're gonna split the thousand Galleon reward between the three of us if one of us wins this thing," Quicktongue meowed, grinning broadly.

"It's not gonna work," Fawnwillow meowed in a sarcastic singsong voice.

They stared at her as Berrytail rolled his eyes and mewed, "Okay, we'll bite."

"What're you meowing about?" Cherrynose added.

Fawnwillow went on, "I think Silverstar will have thought of this earlier. You see the line, right? Well, he might have put some detecting spells around it."

"So?" Quicktongue asked.

"So a genius like Silverstar couldn't be fooled by a dodge as pathetically stupid as an Aging potion," the light brown tabby retorted.

They all shared looks before Berrytail purred, "But this is why it's awesome."

"Because IT'S pathetically stupid," Cherrynose added.

"Ready?" Berrytail meowed to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon...I'll go first. But just in case..." The twins took out the Aging Potion bottles and guzzled them down again before Berrytail continued, "One...two...three!"

Nightfang watched, riveted, as he pulled a slip of paper out of his bag bearing the name _Berrytail Weasley: The Forest_. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a second, Nightfang thought it worked; Cherrynose certainly thought so, for he let out a yowl of triumph and leapt in after his brother. But in the next moment, there was a sizzling sound, and both cats were hurled out of the golden circle as if they were thrown by a powerful gust of wind. They landed painfully ten tail-lengths away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them had sprouted identical long white beards. They gave a yowl of surprise and started to mock-fight each other, playfully blaming each other for what happened.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even the twins joined in once they got to their paws and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I _did_ warn you," a deep amused voice purred, and everyone turned to see Silverstar coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed the twins, his blue eyes twinkling, as he went on, "I suggest you both go up to see Poppyleaf. She is already trying to fix Miss Fawcett of RavenClan and Mr. Summers of BadgerClan, both of whom had also decided to age themselves up a little. Though neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

So the twins set off for the medicine den, accompanied by Quicktongue, who was doubling up in laughter. The Golden Trio, also laughing about what happened, went in to breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. Since it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Nightfang led the way over to Ashfoot and Sandfur, who were chatting about Forest cats of seventeen or over who might be entering.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Ashfoot told Nightfang. "That big black-&-gray ViperClan cat who looks like a sloth bear."

Nightfang, who had played AirBall against Warrington, shook his head in disgust. "No way! We can't have a ViperClan guardian!"

"And all the BadgerClan fellas are talking about Diggory," Sandfur added scornfully. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd want to risk his good looks."

"Listen!" Fawnwillow mewed suddenly.

Cats were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Shadefeather Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed way. A tall black-coated Bombay she-cat who played Chaser on the LionClan AirBall team, Shadefeather came over to them, sat down, and purred, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" Redstone mewed, looking impressed.

"Are you seventeen?" Nightfang asked.

Redstone snorted. "Course she is. Can't see a beard, can you?"

"I had my birthday last quarter-moon," Shadefeather replied.

"Well, I'm glad someone from LionClan is entering," Fawnwillow purred. "I hope you get it, Shadefeather!"

Shadefeather smiled at her. "Thanks, Fawnwillow!"

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," Sandfur added, making BadgerClan cats passing their table to glower heavily at him.

...

"What do you wanna do today?" Redstone asked Nightfang and Fawnwillow when they finished breakfast and were leaving the Great Hall.

"We haven't visited Badgerstripe yet," Nightfang suggested.

The American Shorthair looked briefly horrified, but then he sighed. "Okay. But as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few whiskers to the skrewts, it'll be cool."

A look of great excitement suddenly dawned on Fawnwillow's face. "I've just realized...I haven't asked him to join S.E.A.L.R. yet!" she mewed brightly. "Wait for me while I go upstairs and get the badges."

At that, the light brown tabby she-cat ran away up the sandstone staircase. Redstone stared after her and muttered in exasperation, "What is it with her?"

"Hey, Redstone," Nightfang meowed suddenly. "There's your girlfriend."

The cats from the Oasis were coming through the front doors from the grounds, among them, the pretty lynx-like she-cat. Those gathered around the Trophy of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly. Fuzzystar entered the hall behind her apprentices and organized them into a line. One by one, the cats stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of paper into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and produced sparks.

"What do you think will happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Redstone asked Nightfang as the lynx she-cat dropped her paper into the Trophy of Fire. "Think they'll go back to school, or stay to watch the tournament?"

Nightfang shrugged. "I guess they'll stay. Fuzzystar's staying to judge."

When all the Oasis cats had submitted their names, Fuzzystar led them back out of the hall and out to the grounds again. Redstone padded over to the front doors and stared after them, mewing, "Well, where will they sleep, then?"

A loud rattling noise behind them declared Fawnwillow's reappearance. The box of S.E.A.L.R. badges was hung around her neck by a strand of rope.

"Good. Now hurry up," Redstone meowed. At that, he leapt down the stone steps, keeping his eyes on the back of the white she-cat, who was now halfway across the lawn with Fuzzystar.

As they neared Badgerstripe's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Swamp, the mystery of the Oasis cats' sleeping areas was solved. The huge powder-blue stagecoach in which they had arrived had been parked bear-lengths from Badgerstripe's front door, and the cats were climbing back inside it. The enormous flying horses that had pulled the carriage were now grazing in a provisional enclosure alongside it. Nightfang knocked on the front door, and Marmaduke's loud barking answered instantly.

"Bout time!" Badgerstripe purred when he flung open the door. "Thought you kids forgot where I live!"

"We've been really bus..." Fawnwillow started to say, but then she stopped, looking up at the gamekeeper, apparently lost for words.

Badgerstripe was wearing his best (and horrible) hairy brown uniform with a checked black-and-orange tie. This wasn't the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to groom his coarse pelt, using large amounts of what appeared to be massage cream. It was now slicked down into a few orange patches, possibly like Birdstorm's black patches on his orange fur, but found he had too much fur. The look didn't really suit him at all.

For a moment, Fawnwillow gawked at him. Then, visibly deciding not to comment, she asked, "Er...where are the skrewts?"

Badgerstripe purred, "Out by the pumpkin patch. They're gettin' huge; must be gettin' around as big as a snappin' turtle now. Only trouble is...they've started killin' each other."

"Oh no, really?" Fawnwillow mewed, shooting a warning look at Redstone. The ginger tom, who was staring at Badgerstripe's odd hairdo, had just opened his mouth to say something about it.

"Yeah," Badgerstripe sighed, nodding sadly. "It's okay, though. I've got 'em in separate boxes now. Still got about twenty left."

"Well, that's lucky," Redstone muttered sarcastically. Badgerstripe missed the sarcasm, but if he heard it, he ignored it as he let them in.

The cabin included a single room, in one corner of which was a big nest covered in a patchwork quilt. An equally large wooden table and chairs stood in front of the fire beneath the mass of smoked hams and dead turkeys hanging from the ceiling. And in another corner was the nest where Marmaduke would sleep in. They sat down at the table while the gamekeeper started to make cream and were soon occupied in yet more discussion of the Tri-warrior Tournament.

Badgerstripe seemed to be quite as excited about it as they were. "You just wait, kids," he purred, grinning. "You just wait. Yer gonna see some stuff yeh've never seen before. First mission...but I ain't allowed ter say."

"Go on!" they urged him, but he just shook his head, smiling and showing those strange long canine fangs.

"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," Badgerstripe replied. "But it's gonna be awesome, I'll tell yeh what. Them guardians are gonna have their work cut out for 'em. Never thought I'd live ter see the Tri-warrior Tournament played again!"

They ended up having lunch with Badgerstripe, though they didn't eat much; he had made what he said were hamburgers, but after Fawnwillow found a large hoof in hers, she and the others lost their appetites. However, they enjoyed trying to make Badgerstripe tell them what the missions in the tournament were going to be, guessing which of the players were likely to be selected as guardians and if the twins were beardless yet.

A light rain had started to fall by midafternoon. It was very cozy sitting by the fire, listening to the gentle patter of the drops on the window, watching Badgerstripe stitching Marmaduke's chew toy and arguing with Fawnwillow about lemurs. He had flatly refused to join S.E.A.L.R. when she showed him her badges.

"It'd be insultin' them," he retorted sternly, licking a massive paw. "I know lemurs are wild lil' critters, but it's in the _house-_lemurs' nature ter look after warrior cats. That's what they like, see? Yeh'd make 'em unhappy ter take away their work and insutin' 'em if yeh tried ter pay 'em."

"But Nightfang set Bobby free, and he was happy about it!" Fawnwillow retorted back. "And we heard he's asking for wages now!"

Badgerstripe shrugged. "Yeah, well...yeh get weirdoes in every breed. I'm not sayin' there ain't the odd lemur who'd take freedom, but yeh'll never encourage most of 'em ter do it. Nope, nothin' doin'."

Fawnwillow looked very cross, but she strapped her box of badges back around her neck.

By half past five, it was growing dark, and the Golden Trio decided it was time to get back up to the castle for the Halloween feast, And what was more important was that the announcement of the school guardians would be announced after that.

"I'll come with yeh," Badgerstripe meowed, tossing Marmaduke his squeaky chew bone. "Jus' give us a sec."

The massive black cat got up, went across to the chest of drawers beside his bed, and began searching for something inside it. They didn't pay too much attention until an awful smell reached their noses. Coughing, Redstone hacked, "Badgerstripe...what IS that?"

Badgerstripe turned around, a large bottle in one paw. "Eh? Don't yeh like it?"

"Is that perfume?" Fawnwillow rasped in a slightly choked voice.

"Eau de cologne," Badgerstripe purred, blushing. "Maybe it's a bit much," he then added gruffly. "I'll go take it off. Hang on."

He stumped out of the hut, and they saw him washing himself heartily in the water barrel outside the window.

Fawnwillow mewed in shock, "_Eau de cologne?_ Really?"

"And did he comb his fur?" Nightfang added in an undertone.

"Look!" Redstone meowed suddenly, pointing out of the window.

Badgerstripe had just straightened up and turned around. If he had been blushing before, it was nothing to what he was doing now. Getting up to cautiously so that he wouldn't spot them, the Golden Trio peered through the window and saw that Fuzzystar and the Oasis apprentices had just emerged from their carriage, just about to set off for the feast too. They couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was talking to Fuzzystar with a rapt soppy face Nightfang had only ever seen him wear once: when he had been looking at the baby griffin, Roberta.

"He's going up to the castle with her!" Fawnwillow hissed indignantly. "I thought he was waiting for us!"

Without a backward glance at his hut, Badgerstripe was lumbering off up the grounds with the Oasis leader, the Oasis cats following and running to keep up with their enormous paces.

"He's in love with her!" Redstone yelped in disbelief. "Well, if they end up having kits, they'll be setting a world record! Bet any kit of theirs would weigh about a hundred pounds."

They let themselves out of the log cabin and shut the door behind them. It was surprisingly dark outside as they set off up the sloping lawns, ignoring the moose that had come out for their nightly feeding.

"It's them! Look!" Fawnwillow mewed.

The Mountain cats were now walking up toward the castle from the lake. Earthclaw was strolling alongside Coldstar, and the other Mountain cats were straggling along behind them to keep up. Redstone watched the dark tabby excitedly, but Earthclaw did not look around as he reached the front doors a little ahead of them and padded through them.

When they entered the candlelit Great Hall, it was almost full. The Trophy of Fire had finally been moved; it was now standing in front of Silverstar's empty chair at the mentors' table. The Weasley twins (clean-shaven again) seemed to have taken their disappointment well.

"Hope it's Shadefeather," Berrytail meowed as the Golden Trio sat down.

"So do I!" Fawnwillow replied breathlessly. "Well, we'll soon know!"

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, Nightfang didn't seem to like the lavishly prepared food as much as he would have normally. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the turning heads, edgy looks on every face, twitching their tails, and standing up to see if Silverstar was finished eating yet, Nightfang wanted the plates to clear and to hear who had been selected as guardians.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp increase in the noise within the Hall, which died away instantly as Silverstar got to his paws. On each side of him, Coldstar and Fuzzystar looked just as tense and expectant as anyone. Graytail, who was sitting a bit away from them, was grinning and winking at various cats. Crouchfoot, however, looked quite indifferent and almost bored.

"The Trophy is almost ready to make its decision," Silverstar meowed. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. When the guardians' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go into the next chamber..." He flicked his furry tail the door behind the staff table. "...where they will receive their first instructions."

He gave a great sweeping wave of his tail-wand. At once, all the candles except those inside the carved jack-o-lanterns were doused, plunging them into a state of dimness.

The Trophy of Fire was now shining more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright blueness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting, and a few cats kept checking their owners' watches.

"Any second," Quicktongue hissed eagerly, two seats away from Nightfang.

Suddenly, the flames inside the trophy turned ruby red again, and sparks began to fly out from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of paper fluttered out of it, and the whole room gasped. Silverstar caught the piece of paper and held it up to the light so that he could read it by the flames, which had turned back to blue.

"The guardian of the Mountain..." he read, in a strong clear voice, "...will be Earthclaw Krum."

"No surprises there!" Redstone cheered as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall.

Nightfang saw Earthclaw rise from the ViperClan table and prowl up to Silverstar. He turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Earthclaw!" Coldstar cheered so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "I knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down when Earthclaw had left. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the trophy, which, heartbeats later, turned red once more. A second piece of paper shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The guardian of the Oasis..." Silverstar read, "...is Swanflight Delacour!"

"It's her, Redstone!" Nightfang teased as the white she-cat who resembled a lynx got gracefully to her paw, shook back her sheet of head fur, and swept up quickly between the RavenClan and BadgerClan tables.

"Aww, they're disappointed," Fawnwillow mewed, nodding to the remaining Oasis cats.

_"Disappointed" is a bit ironic,_ Nightfang thought. Two of the she-cats who had not been selected had thawed into tears and were sobbing with their heads onto the table. When Swanflight too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time, it was a silence so stiff with pure excitement that one could almost taste it.

_The Forest Guardian next..._

And the Trophy of Fire turned red once more. Sparks showered out of it, and the tongue of flame shot high into the air. From its tip, Silverstar pulled the third piece of paper.

"The guardian of the Forest..." Silverstar read the last part, "...is Oakheart Diggory!"

"Aww!" Redstone groaned loudly.

But nobody heard him except Nightfang; the upheaval from the next table was too great. Every single BadgerClan cat had jumped to their paws, screaming and stamping, as Oakheart made his way past them, smiling broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the mentors' table. Indeed, the applause for Oakheart went on so long that it was some time before Silverstar could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" he called happily as the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three guardians. I am sure I can count on all of you, including the remaining cats of the Oasis and the Mountain, to give your guardians every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering them on, you will participate in a custom handed down from generation to generation. And for you guardians, only one will come down in history. Only one of you will triumph above the rest-"

But suddenly, the silver tabby Persian stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the trophy had just turned red again; sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and displayed upon it was another piece of paper.

Routinely, it seemed, Silverstar reached out a paw and seized the paper. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it, his eyes wide. There was a long pause, during which he stared at the slip in his paw, and everyone in the room stared at him. And then the leader of the Forest cleared his throat and read out:

"Nightfang Potter."

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: Quite a lot for a chapter, huh?**

**Hermione: Yeah. Especially with the classes and the tournament and the elves...I mean, lemurs.**

**AvatarCat12: I know about the elves part. And I have to say that you were a bit too passionate about it... (Hermione stares sternly at him) ...but there's nothing wrong with passion! So should we go on with the review thing.**

**Hermione: I suppose we can. (To the reader) Remember to read and review! Those who do will get a virtual plush doll of Dobby to support S.P.E.W. And don't laugh, Avatar Cat! No flames will be allowed, but advice and constructive criticism are.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	17. The Four Guardians

**AvatarCat12: Hey, everyone! I've decided to try and upload this new... (Ron comes in) Ron? What're you doing in the office so early?  
**

**Ron: I wanted to check out this chapter. I've felt really bad about thinking Harry put himself in the tournament. So I want to see what happened.  
**

**AvatarCat12: You're already forgiven, but here's your chance to see what went down. Would you like to say the disclaimer as a start?  
**

**Ron: Yeah. I guess I can.  
**

**Disclaimer: You all know what he said in the story. He doesn't own the Harry Potter series or Warrior Cats.  
**

**Uploading Date: October 27, 2012  
**

**Both: Enjoy!  
**

**...**

_**The Four Guardians**_

Nightfang sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned, numb. He was surely dreaming, had not heard correctly. He could not have had been chosen to be in the tournament.

There was no applause. A buzzing like angry bees was starting to fill the Hall; some cats were standing up to get a better look at the black cat as he sat, frozen, in his seat. Up at the top table, Thistleheart got to her paws and darted swiftly past Graytail and Coldstar to whisper urgently to Silverstar, who bent his ear to her, frowning slightly. Nightfang turned to his friends; beyond them, he saw the long LionClan table all watching him, his jaws a bit open.

"I didn't put my name in," he rasped blankly. "You know I didn't."

But both of them stared just as blankly back.

At the top table, Silverstar had straightened up, nodding to Thistleheart. "Nightfang Potter!" he called again. "Up here, if you please!"

"Go," Fawnwillow whispered, giving Nightfang a slight push.

So Nightfang got to his paws, stepped on a slippery piece of moss, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the LionClan and BadgerClan tables, looking around. It felt like a very long walk; the top table didn't seem to get any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds of eyes upon him as if each cat was a firefly. The buzzing grew louder and louder, and as he padded silently towards the mentors, he heard a voice or two hiss "He's a cheat!" or "How on earth did he do all this?" ring in his ears.

After what seemed like an hour, he was in front of Silverstar, feeling the stares of all the mentors upon him.

"Well...through the door," Silverstar meowed, but he wasn't smiling. So Nightfang moved off along the mentors' table.

Badgerstripe was seated right at the end, but he did not wink at Nightfang, wave, or give any of his usual greeting signs. The huge black cat looked totally surprised and stared at Nightfang as he passed like everyone else.

The Maine Coon mix went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of warriors. A handsome orange fire was roaring in the hearth across from him, and the faces in the paintings turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a grizzled brown she-cat dart out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a fox-like cat, and started whispering in his ear.

Earthclaw, Oakheart, and Swanflight were grouped around the fire, looking oddly impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Earthclaw, hunched up and brooding, was leaning his shoulder against the bookshelf, slightly apart from the other two. Oakheart was sitting with his tail around his paws, staring into the fire. Swanflight looked around when Nightfang walked in and threw back her sheet of long silvery head-fur.

"What is it?" she asked. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?" The white she-cat sounded as if she thought he had come to deliver a message.

Nightfang didn't know how to explain what had just happened. He just stood there, looking at the three guardians and was amazed of how very tall all three cats were. They were even taller than he even if he was the tallest cat in the Golden Trio.

There was a sound of hurrying pawsteps behind him, and Graytail entered the room. He took Nightfang by the shoulder and led him forward. "Amazing!" he muttered. "Absolutely amazing! Gentlemen...lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three cats. "May I introduce...incredible though it is...the _fourth_ Tri-warrior guardian?"

Earthclaw straightened up, his surly face darkening as he surveyed Nightfang. Oakheart looked confused, looking from Graytail to Nightfang and back again as if he must have misheard what Graytail had said. Swanflight, however, tossed her head fur, smiling as she purred, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Graytail repeated, bewildered. "Not at all! His name came out of the Trophy of Fire!"

Earthclaw's eyes narrowed, Oakheart still looked politely bewildered, and Swanflight frowned.

"But zair 'as been a mistake," she mewed scornfully. "E cannot compete. 'E is too young."

Graytail flicked his tail around and smiled at Nightfang. "Well...it IS amazing. But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And since his name's come out...I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out here; it's down in the rules, you're obliged to see. Anyways, Nightfang will just have to do the best he-"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of cats came in: Silverstar, followed closely by Crouchfoot, Coldstar, Fuzzystar, Thistleheart, and Brokenfang. Nightfang heard the buzzing of the hundreds of cats on the other side of the wall, before Thistleheart closed the door. And by the sounds of the older warriors, they seemed to have been arguing.

"Madame Maxime!" Swanflight piped up at once, striding over to her leader. "Zey are saying zat zis kitten is to compete also!"

Somewhere under Nightfang's numb incredulity, he felt a wave of anger. _Kitten?!_

Fuzzystar had drawn herself up to her full considerable height. The top of her handsome head had brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic white-furred chest swelled.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Silvery-star?" she asked haughtily while Silverstar looked exhausted from the arguing.

"I'd rather like to know that myself," Coldstar added. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like fragments of ice. "_Two_ Forest guardians? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school can have two guardians...or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" he added, giving a short and nasty laugh.

Fuzzystar laid her short but highly-decorated tail on Swanflight's shoulder. "C'est impossible. Ze Forest cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unmerited."

Coldstar still had his smile, but his eyes were colder than before. "We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger cats, Dumbledore. Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider range of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Brokenfang hissed softly, his dark amber eyes ablaze with malice. "Don't blame Silverstar for Potter's purpose to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here-"

"Enough, Brokenfang," Silverstar meowed firmly. The dark tabby went quiet, though his dark amber eyes still glinted spitefully through his curtain of greasy black head fur.

Silverstar was now looking down at Nightfang, who looked right back at him, trying to detect the expression of his blue eyes. "Did you or did you not put your name into the Trophy Of Fire?" he asked calmly, yet his voice was shaking as if he was going to get angry.

"No," Nightfang replied, very aware of everybody watching him closely. Brokenfang made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.

Silverstar just ignored him, asking, "Did you ask an older cat to put it into there for you?"

"No," Nightfang mewed again.

"Are you _absolutely_ sure?"

"Yes."

"Ah, but 'e is lying!" Fuzzystar sniffed. Brokenfang was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," Thistleheart meowed sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that-"

Fuzzystar shrugged. "Silvery-star must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line."

"It is possible, of course," Silverstar added politely.

Thistleheart snapped, "Silverstar, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake! Really, what nonsense! Potter could not have crossed the line himself, and as Silverstar believes that he did not persuade an older cat to do it for him, I'm sure that is good enough for everybody else!" At that, the Oriental Shorthair mix shot a very angry look at Brokenfang, who looked away.

"Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman," Coldstar meowed, his voice smarmy again. "You are our...objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Graytail licked a forepaw and swiped it over his ear before he looked at Crouchfoot. The brown tabby Devon Rex was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly spooky, the half-darkness making him look much older, giving him a skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual brusque voice.

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those cats whose names come out of the Trophy of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament. Mr. Potter will have to compete."

"Well, he knows the rule book back to front," Graytail purred, beaming and turning back to the other leaders as if the matter was now closed.

Coldstar dropped the smarmy tone and smile, wearing a very ugly look on his face now. "I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my apprentices. You will set up the Trophy of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two guardians of each school. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

Graytail replied, "But it doesn't work like that. The Trophy of Fire's just gone out; it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament-"

"- in which the Mountain will not be competing!" Coldstar exploded. "After all our meetings and negotiations, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I should leave right now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," a voice growled from near the door. "You can't leave your guardian now. He's gotta compete. They've all gotta compete. Binding contract like Silverstar here said. Convenient, eh?"

Mad-Eye had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.

"Convenient? I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody." Nightfang could tell Coldstar was trying to sound scornful as if what Mad-Eye was saying was barely worth his notice. But his eyes gave him away; they were now narrowed to slits.

Mad-Eye snorted. "Don't you? It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Plainly, someone 'oo wished to give le Forest two bites at ze apple!" Fuzzystar added.

Coldstar nodded to the big white she-cat. "I agree, Madame Maxime. I shall lodge complaints with the Government of Warriorism and the Worldwide Alliance of Warriors-"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," Mad-Eye retorted. "But you know what's funny? I don't hear HIM saying anything."

The cats glanced briefly at Nightfang, who looked away quickly.

"Why should 'e complain?" Swanflight piped up, flicking her feathery tail. "E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for moons! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money...zis is a chance many would die for!"

With a growl, Mad-Eye replied, "Maybe someone's hoping Potter WILL die for it."

An awfully tense silence followed these words. Graytail, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on the spot and mewed, "Old man...what a thing to say!"

"We all know Moody considers sunrise wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunch," Coldstar announced loudly and arrogantly. "Apparently, he is now teaching his apprentices to fear murder too. This is an odd value in a Defense Against the Dark Arts mentor, Silverstar, but I'm sure you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" Mad-Eye growled, limping up to the smaller silver tabby until they stood nose-to-nose. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled warrior who put the boy's name in that Trophy, no doubt about that!"

Fuzzystar frowned. "What evidence is zere of zat?"

Mad-Eye replied, "Because they tricked a very powerful magical object! It would have needed a very strong Confundus Charm to cheat that trophy into forgetting that only three schools play in the tournament. I'm guessing they presented Potter's name under a fourth school to make sure he was the only one in his category."

Coldstar growled, "You seem to have given this a great search, Moody...and a very clever theory it is! Though of course, I heard you recently thought that one of your birthday presents contained an artfully disguised basilisk egg and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a toy rabbit. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..."

"There are those who'll take innocent times to their advantage," Mad-Eye retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark warriors do, Karkaroff...as _you_ should remember!"

"You are not helping the situation, Stormwatcher!" Silverstar meowed warningly.

At first, Nightfang wondered who the Persian was speaking to, but then he realized that "Mad-Eye" could almost not be his real first name. Mad-Eye (which he was used to hearing now) fell silent, though he was still surveying Coldstar with satisfaction while the other glared at him.

Silverstar went on, speaking to everyone in the room, "How this situation arose, we do not know. However, we have no choice but to accept it. Both Oakheart and Nightfang have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."

"Ah, but Silvery-star-"

"My dear Fuzzystar, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

He waited, but Fuzzystar did not speak, for she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Brokenfang looked furious, and Coldstar was livid. Graytail, however, looked excited.

"Well, shall we crack on?" he purred, smiling around the room. "Got to give our guardians their instructions. Want to do the honors, Crouchfoot?"

Crouchfoot seemed to come out of a deep musing. "Yes...instructions. Yes...the first mission..."

He moved forward into the firelight, but at seeing him close-up, Nightfang thought he looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin papery look about his face that had not been there at the AirBall World Trophy.

"The first mission is designed to test your daring," he told the guardians. "So we are not going to tell you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a warrior...very important. The first mission will take place on November 24th of 2014, in front of the apprentices and panel of judges. The guardians are not allowed to ask for or accept help from their mentors to complete the missions in the tournament. They will face the first challenge armed only with their tail-wands. They will receive data about the second mission when the first is over. Due to the serious and arduous nature tournament, the guardians are excused from end-of-year tests." Then he turned to look at Silverstar. "I think that's all, is it?"

"I think so," Silverstar meowed, looking at Crouchfoot with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at the Forest tonight?"

Crouchfoot shook his head. "No, thank you. I must get back to the Government. It is a very busy and difficult time at the moment. I've left young Weatherly in charge. Very passionate lad...a little obsessive, if truth be told."

Silverstar nodded. "Very well, but would you like to have a drink before you go?"

"Come on, I'm staying!" Graytail squealed brightly. "It's all happening at the Forest now, you know. Much more exciting here than at the office!"

"No," Crouchfoot replied with a touch of his old impatience.

"Very well," Silverstar meowed, nodding again. "Fuzzystar? Coldstar? Would either of you like something to drink first?"

But Fuzzystar had already started nudging Swanflight away and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Nightfang could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Coldstar flicked his tail to Earthclaw, and they also left, though in silence.

Silverstar was now smiling as he turned to Nightfang and Oakheart. "I suggest you go up to bed. I am sure LionClan and BadgerClan are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to divest them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Nightfang glanced at Oakheart, who nodded, and they left together. The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.

"So," Oakheart purred with a slight smile. "We're playing against each other again!"

"Yeah," Nightfang mewed, unable to think of anything to say. The inside of his head seemed to be in complete confusion as if his brain had been robbed.

As they reached the entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in the lack of the Trophy of Fire, Oakheart meowed, "So how did you get your name in?"

Nightfang started at him. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth."

"Oh...okay," Oakheart meowed, but Nightfang could tell the golden tabby cat didn't believe him. "Well...see you later, then."

Instead of going up the sandstone staircase, Oakheart headed for a door to its right. Nightfang stood listening to him going down the stone steps beyond it, then, slowly, he started to climb the marble ones.

Was anyone except his friends going to believe him, or would they all think he put himself in for the tournament? Yet how could anyone think that when he was facing competitors who had three years' more magical education than he, when he was now facing missions that not only sounded dangerous, but which were to be performed in front of hundreds of cats? Yes, he had thought of it; he had already dreamed about it.

_But it was just a joke, a dream. I've never really considered entering..._

But someone else had considered it; someone else had wanted him in the tournament and had made sure he was entered. Why? To give him a treat? He didn't think so, somehow. To see him make a fool of himself? Well, they were likely to get their wish. But to get him killed? Was Mad-Eye just being his usual distrustful self? Couldn't someone have put Nightfang's name in the trophy as a practical joke? Did anyone _really_ want him dead?

Nightfang was able to answer that at once. Yes, someone wanted him dead; someone had wanted him dead ever since he had been a kit: Red Helmet. But how could the demon bear have ensured that Nightfang's name got into the Trophy of Fire? He was supposed to be far away in a distant country in hiding, alone, feeble, and powerless. Yet in that dream he had had, just before he had awoken with his scar hurting, Red Helmet was not alone; he had been talking to Wormtail and plotting Nightfang's murder.

The British Shorthair mix got a shock to find himself facing the Fat Queen already. He had barely noticed where his feet were carrying him. It was also a surprise to see that she was not alone in her frame this time. The grizzled brown she-cat who had flitted into her neighbor's painting when he had joined the guardians downstairs was now sitting self-assuredly beside the Fat Queen. She must have torn through every picture lining seven staircases to reach here before him. Both she and the Fat Queen were looking down at him with the keenest interest.

The Fat Queen purred, "Well, well, well. Lakefern's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school guardian, eh?"

"Boulder dash," Nightfang mewed dully.

"It most certainly isn't!" the brown she-cat squeaked indignantly.

"No, no, it's the password," the Fat Queen replied soothingly, and she swung forth on her hinges to let Nightfang into the den room.

The blast of noise that met Nightfang's ears as the portrait opened almost knocked him off his paws. Next thing he knew, he was being pulled inside the den room by about a dozen pairs of paws and was facing the cats of LionClan, all of whom were cheering, clapping, and whistling.

"You should've told us you entered!" Berrytail yowled. He looked half annoyed and half deeply impressed.

"How'd you do it without getting a beard? Awesome!" Cherrynose cheered.

Nightfang tried to explain. "But I didn't. I don't know how-"

But Shadefeather had now swooped down upon him, looking very cheerful. "It's a shame it wasn't me. But I'm happy it's a LionClan cat at least!"

"You can pay Diggory back for that last AirBall match!" Bluesplash Bell cheered; she was a Russian Blue and another of the LionClan Chasers. "We've got some food here, Nightfang! Come and have some!"

"No thanks. I had enough at the feast."

But nobody wanted to hear that; nobody wanted to hear that he hadn't put his name in the trophy; no one even seemed to have noticed that he wasn't at all in the mood to celebrate. Quicktongue had unearthed a LionClan banner from somewhere and insisted on draping it around Nightfang like a cloak or second pelt.

Poor Nightfang couldn't get away; whenever he tried to creep over to the stairs up to the dorms, the crowd around him seemed to force him back down, forcing another bottle of hot latte on him, stuffing pretzels and Swedish Fish into his jaws. Everyone wanted to know how he did it, how he tricked Silverstar's Age Line and got his name into the trophy.

Over and over again, he had to meow, "I didn't. I don't know how it happened."

But for all the notice anyone took, he might just as well not have answered at all.

"ENOUGH!" he roared finally after half an hour. "I'm just tired, okay?! No, Cherrynose. I'm going to bed."

All he needed now was to find Redstone and Fawnwillow to find a bit of sanity, but neither of them seemed to be in the den room. Insisting that he needed to sleep and almost flattening the Creevey brothers as they tried to intercept him at the foot of the stairs, the black cat managed to shake everyone off and climb up to the dorm as fast as he could.

To his great relief, he found Redstone was lying on his bed in the then empty dorm, grooming a foreleg. He looked up when Nightfang slammed the door behind him.

"Where've you been?" Nightfang asked.

"Hey."

He was smiling, but it was a very odd and strained smile. Nightfang suddenly became aware that he was still wearing the scarlet LionClan banner that Quicktongue had tied around him. He sped to take it off, but it was knotted very tightly. Redstone laid on the bed after grooming, watching Nightfang struggle to remove it.

"So," he meowed when Nightfang finally cut off the banner and threw it away. "Well done."

"What do you mean by that?" Nightfang asked. There was definitely something wrong with the way the ginger tom was smiling; it was more like a sneer.

Redstone replied, "No one else got across the Age Line. Not even the twins. What'd you use, the Invisibility Pelt?"

Nightfang replied slowly, "The Invisibility Pelt wouldn't have gotten me over that line."

"Oh right," Redstone snorted. "I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak because it would've covered both of us. But you found another way, did you?"

This struck Nightfang really hard. Did his friend not really believe him either?

"Listen," he meowed. "I didn't put my name in that Trophy Of Fire. I don't want eternal glory. Someone else must've done it."

Redstone narrowed his eyes. "Why would they want to do that?"

Nightfang felt this would sound very overdramatic to say, "To kill me." So instead, he mewed, "I have no idea."

Now Redstone's brows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his thick head fur. This made Nightfang's green eyes narrow in worry; what would he say next?

"It's okay, you know. You can tell me the truth," Redstone finally meowed. "If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're lying. You didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Queen's, that Lakefern cat, already told us all Silverstar's letting you enter." He stopped a bit to think before going on, "A thousand Galleons prize money, huh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either."

"For the last time, I didn't put my name in there!" Nightfang snapped, starting to feel angry.

But Redstone mewed in the same skeptical tone as Oakheart, "Yeah, okay. Only you said this morning you would've done it last night, and no one would've seen you. I'm not stupid, you know."

Nightfang snarled, "You're sure as hell acting like it!"

"Yeah?" Redstone growled back. There was no trace of a grin, forced or else, on his face now. "Well, that's me, isn't it? Redstone Weasley, Nightfang Potter's stupid friend! And you might want to sleep while you're at it. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something."

"You're a stupid furball, you know that?" Nightfang hissed, the fur on his back standing up.

Redstone glared back at him. "You think so?"

"I KNOW so!"

"Anything else you wanna add?"

"Yeah: stay away from me!"

Redstone said nothing, but he wrenched the hangings shut around his four-poster nest. This left Nightfang standing there by the door, staring at the dark red velvet curtains that hid one of the few cats he was sure would believe him. Sighing, he leapt into his nest and curled up into a ball, trying to get the rejection out of his mind.

**...**

Meanwhile, in Silverstar's office, the mentors had gathered around the Pensieve, looking around each other. Silverstar was gazing down into the silvery stuff that was memories floating around. Never in all his years had the old silver tabby tom seen a cat actually making his way into the tournament. There was something amiss going on about the Forest.

"Silverstar, this can't go on," Thistleheart meowed. "First the Dark Mark, and now this?"

Silverstar sighed. "What do you suggest, my old friend?"

Thistleheart snapped, "Put an end to it! Don't let Potter compete!"

"You heard Crouchfoot. The rules are clear."

"To Hell with Crouchfoot and his rules!" the Oriental Shorthair mix spat. "And since when did you side with the Government?"

Then Brokenfang meowed, "I also find it difficult to believe this coincidence. However, if we are to discover the meaning of these events, perhaps we should...for the time being...let them unfold."

Thistleheart glared at him. "Do nothing?! Offer him up as bait?! Potter is a young cat! Not a piece of fresh-kill waiting to be eaten!"

Silverstar rose a paw for silence before waving his tail-wand at his head, directing a silver thread into the Pensieve. "I agree with Brokenfang. We must see how this all turns out. Keep an eye on Nightfang, will you, Stormwatcher?" he asked the Persian/Manx mix.

Mad-Eye nodded. "I can do that."

"Don't let him know, though," Silverstar warned him as he looked out the window. "We must be anxious enough as it is, knowing what lies ahead. Then again...we all are."

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**Ron: ...I feel really bad now...and not the sick kind. I can't believe I didn't believe Harry about it.  
**

**AvatarCat12: Remember what Hakuna Matata taught us: put your past behind you.  
**

**Ron: It's not easy, but I'll try...I don't feel like saying the review thing for the night. You wanna say it?  
**

**AvatarCat12: Okay, you take a little break. (To the readers) You all know what to do. Go down to the review part and type in your review. Those of you who do, you can give Nightfang a hug...if he even wants a hug.  
**

**Harry: (From the other room) No I don't!  
**

**AvatarCat12: Okay then...but just in case. I don't allow flames on this FanFic or any of my other stories, but I allow advice and constructive criticism.  
**

**Both: See ya next time!  
**


	18. Weighing The Tail-Wands

**AvatarCat12: Hey everyone! I'm back. You all heard about how Hurricane Sandy hit the east coast, right? Well, the wind from the hurricane picked up and headed over to the town where my grandparents live, but we're fine now.**

**Anyways, this chapter will kinda be a pain in the butt since Harry's cat form is gonna get rough treatment again. I just hate it when the Slytherins pick a weakness and keep targeting the person with a weakness. I'm not saying that all Slytherins are evil 'cause I know there are some good ones. I'm just saying that Slytherin's my least favorite House.**

**Sorry about the ranting. Let's get on with the disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: You all remember that I don't own Harry Potter and Warrior Cats, right? J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own both those series.**

**Uploading Date: October 31, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Weighing The Tail-wands**_

When Nightfang woke up on Sunday morning, it took a moment to remember why he felt so down and worried. Then the memory of the previous night rolled over him like an ocean wave. He sat up and ripped back the curtains of his own four-poster, intending to talk to Redstone, to force him to believe him...only to find that Redstone's nest was empty. He had obviously gone down to breakfast.

So Nightfang went down the spiral staircase alone into the den room. The moment he appeared, the cats who had already finished breakfast broke into applause again. The scene of going down into the Great Hall and facing the rest of the LionClan cats, all treating him like a hero, was not inviting; it was either that, however, or stay here and let himself be cornered by the Creevey cats, who were beckoning frantically to him to join them. So he stalked resolutely over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out, and found himself face-to-face with Fawnwillow.

"Hey," she meowed through a mouthful of salmon. "I brought you this. Wanna go for a walk?"

"Good idea," Nightfang mewed gratefully. "Thanks."

The two cats went downstairs, crossed the entrance hall without looking in the Great Hall, and were soon treading across the lawn to the sea, where the Mountain ship was tied, reflected in the water. It was a chilly morning with the leaves falling around them, and they kept moving, having a little break now and then to eat their fish. After they paused a bit by some rocks, Nightfang told Fawnwillow exactly what had happened after he had left the LionClan table the night before. To his relief, the light brown tabby she-cat accepted his story without question.

"I knew you didn't enter yourself," she meowed when he finished telling her about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. "I saw the look on your face when Silverstar read out your name! But the question is...who DID put it in? Because Mad-Eye's right: I don't think any cat could have done it; he'd never be able to fool the Trophy or get over Silverstar's-"

"Have you seen Redstone?" Nightfang interrupted.

Fawnwillow hesitated. "Um...yeah," she mewed. "He was at breakfast."

Nightfang gave a small sigh. "Does he still think I entered myself?"

"Well...no...not really,"

"What do you mean, 'not really'?" Nightfang asked her.

Fawnwillow sighed. "Isn't it obvious? He's jealous!"

Nightfang stared at her incredulously. "Jealous? Of what? Does he want to make an idiot of himself in front of the whole school?"

"Listen to me," Fawnwillow replied patiently. "It's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. And it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Nightfang open his mouth angrily. "I know you don't ask for it...but...you know, Redstone's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his friend, and you're really famous. He's always moved aside whenever cats see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it. But maybe this is just too much..."

"Great," Nightfang spat bitterly, glaring down at the grass. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap anytime. Tell him he's welcome to it...cats gawping at my head everywhere I go..."

"I'm not a fucking owl," Fawnwillow retorted shortly. "Why don't you tell him yourself? It's the only way to sort this out."

Nightfang snarled so loudly that crows in a tree took flight in alarm, "I'm not gonna run after him trying to make him grow up! Maybe he'll believe I won't enjoy myself once I get killed or-"

But Fawnwillow looked anxious. "That's not funny, Nightfang. Not funny at all. But anyways, I've been thinking...you know what we've got to do, right? When we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah, stick this fish up his-"

"Write to Padfoot," Fawnwillow quickly mewed. "You've gotta tell him what happened. He asked you to keep him posted on everything that's going on here. It's almost as if he expected something like this to happen. I brought some paper and a quill out with me if you need it."

The black cat looked around to check if they weren't overheard, but the grounds were deserted. Then he turned back to Fawnwillow, growling, "No way. He came back to America just because my scar hurt. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone's entered me in the Tri-warrior Tournament-"

Fawnwillow gave him a stern stare. "He'd want you to tell him, anyways. He'll find out soon."

"How?"

"This isn't going to be kept quiet," the Angora mix told him very seriously. "This tournament's very famous, and you're very famous. I'll be surprised if there isn't anything in the Daily Warrior about you competing. You're already in half the books about Red Helmet...and Padfoot would rather hear it from you. I know he would."

Nightfang didn't reply, instead throwing his last scraps of fish into the lake. They both stood and watched the salmon floating there for a moment before the sperm whale's jaws rose out of the water and scooped it beneath the surface.

"Okay, fine. I'll tell him," he sighed as they climbed up the stairs back to the castle. "But whose owl am I gonna use? He told me not to use Katara again."

Fawnwillow nodded. "Okay. Just ask Redstone if you can borrow-"

But Nightfang replied flatly, "No. I'm not asking him for anything."

"Well, borrow one of the school owls, then. Anyone can use them," Fawnwillow replied.

So the two cats went up to the Owlery together. Fawnwillow gave Nightfang a piece of paper, a quill, and a bottle of ink, then strolled around the long lines of perches, looking at all the different owls. Nightfang sat down a bit away from the pellets and wrote his letter.

_Dear Padfoot,_

_You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at the Forest, so here's how it went: I don't know if you've heard, but the Tri-warrior Tournament's happening this year, and last night, I got picked as a fourth guardian. I don't know who put my name in the Trophy of Fire because I didn't. The other Forest guardian is Oakheart Diggory of BadgerClan._

He paused at this point, thinking for a bit. He had an urge to say something about the weight of anxiety that seemed to have settled in his chest since last night, but he couldn't think how to translate this into words. So he simply dipped his quill back into the ink bottle and wrote,

_Hope you and Buckbeak are okay. - Nightfang_

"Finished," he told Fawnwillow, getting to his four paws and shaking straw off of him.

At this moment, Katara flew down onto his shoulder and held out her leg. Nightfang told her as he searched for an owl, "I'm sorry, but I can't use you right now. I've got to use one of these."

Katara gave a very loud and offended hoot and took off so suddenly that her talons cut into his shoulder. She kept her back to the Maine Coon mix all the time he was tying his letter to the leg of a large boreal owl. When the boreal owl flew off, Nightfang reached his paw up to pet his owl, but she clicked her beak furiously and soared up into the rafters out of reach.

"Great. First Redstone, now you," Nightfang hissed angrily, glaring up at her. "It's not my fault."

**...**

If Nightfang guessed that matters would get better once everyone got used to the idea of him being a guardian, the following day showed him he was mistaken. He could no longer avoid the rest of the school once he was back at lessons...and it was clear that the rest of the school, just like LionClan, thought Nightfang entered himself for the tournament. Unlike the LionClan cats, however, they did not look impressed at all.

The BadgerClan cats, who were usually on good terms with LionClan, had turned oddly cold towards them. One Herbology lesson was enough to prove this. It was plain that the BadgerClan cats felt that Nightfang had stolen their champion's glory. It was a feeling worsened, perhaps, by the fact that BadgerClan very rarely got any glory and that Oakheart was one of the few cats who had given them any, having beaten LionClan in AirBall once.

Birchfrost and Finchwing Finch-Fletchley (an Australian Mist), two cats Nightfang normally got along with very well, did not talk to him although they were replanting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray...yet they did laugh rather coldly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Nightfang's jaws and smacked him across the face. Redstone wasn't talking to Nightfang either, and Fawnwillow sat between them, making very strained dialogue, but though both answered her normally, they didn't look at each other. Nightfang thought even Sproutflower seemed distant with him...but then again, she was Head of BadgerClan.

He would have looked forward to seeing BadgerClan under normal conditions, but Care of Other Animals meant seeing the ViperClan cats too, the first time he would confront them since he had become a guardian. Predictably, Iceheart had arrived at Badgerstripe's hut with his familiar sneer firmly in place.

"Ah look, it's the guardian," he sneered to his cronies the moment he got in earshot of Nightfang. Then he yowled jeeringly, "Hey, why so nervous, Potter? My father and I have had a bet, you see. I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in this here tournament. He disagrees. He thinks you won't even last five!"

But as the cronies guffawed sycophantically, Nightfang snarled viciously, "I don't give a _damn_ about what your father thinks, Malfoy! He's vile and cruel, and you're just pathetic!"

Iceheart looked like he was going to attack due to the forming snarl, but thanks to a wandering Mad-Eye in the background, he had to stop there. Just in time, Badgerstripe emerged from the back of his hut balancing a shaking tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To the class's horror, Badgerstripe said that the reason the skrewts were killing each other was an excess of stifled energy, and that the solution would be for each cat to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The only good thing about this was that it distracted Iceheart completely.

The black-&-silver tabby stared in disgust into a box. "Take this thing for a walk? And where are we supposed to fix the leash? Around the sting, the blasting end, or the sucker?"

"Round the middle," Badgerstripe replied, demonstrating. "Yeh might want ter put on yer mitts, just as an extra precaution, like. Nightfang, you come here and help me with this big one..."

His real intention, however, was to talk to Nightfang away from the rest of the class. He waited until everyone else set off with their skrewts, then he turned to the smaller black cat and meowed very seriously, "So...yer competin', Nightfang. In the tournament. School guardian."

"One of the guardians," Nightfang corrected him.

Badgerstripe's amber eyes looked very anxious. "No idea who put yer name in fer it, kid?"

Nightfang stared at him, hiding the rush of gratitude he felt at those words. "What? So you believe me?"

"Course I do," Badgerstripe grunted. "Yeh say it wasn't you, and I believe yeh...and Silverstar believes yer and all."

"I wish I knew who DID do it," Nightfang sighed bitterly.

The two cats looked out over the lawn; the class was widely scattered now, and all in difficulty. The skrewts were now over as long as a badger and extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colorless, they had developed a thick grayish shiny armor. They looked like a mix between giant scorpions and elongated crabs...but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control.

"Look like they're havin' fun, eh?" Badgerstripe purred happily.

Nightfang presumed he was talking about the skrewts because his classmates weren't. Every now and then, with an alarming bang, one of the skrewts' ends would explode, causing it to fire forth several cat-lengths, and more than one cat was being dragged along on their belly, trying to get back on their paws.

Badgerstripe sighed and looked down at Nightfang with a worried look on his face. "Ah, I don't know, kid. School guardian...everythin' seems ter happen ter you a lot, doesn't it?"

But Nightfang didn't answer. Yes, everything DID seem to happen to him; that was more or less what Fawnwillow had said as they walked around the seashore. And that was the reason, in her words, that Redstone was no longer talking to him.

**...**

The next few days were some of Nightfang's worst days at the Forest ever. The closest he had come to feeling like this had been during those moons, in his second year, when a large part of the school had suspected him of attacking his fellow cats. But Redstone had been with him then. He thought he could have survived with the rest of the school's behavior if he could just have had Redstone back as a friend, but he wasn't going to persuade him to talk to him if he didn't want to. However, it was lonely with aversion pouring in on him from all sides.

He understood the BadgerClan cats' attitude, even if he hated it; they had their own guardian to support. He knew he would get vicious insults from ViperClan; he was highly unpopular there and always had been, because he had helped LionClan beat them so often at AirBall and in the Inter-Clan Championship. But he hoped the RavenClan cats might have found it in their hearts to support him as much as Oakheart. But he was wrong. Most of the RavenClan cats seemed to think that he was desperate to earn himself more fame by tricking the trophy into accepting his name.

Then there was the fact that Oakheart looked the part of a guardian so much more than he did. Very handsome with his erect ears, golden tabby pelt, and gray eyes, it was hard to say who was receiving more admiration these days, him or Earthclaw. Nightfang actually saw the same sixth-year she-cats who had wanted to get Earthclaw's autograph begging Oakheart to sign their school bags at lunch once.

Meanwhile there was no reply from Padfoot, Katara was refusing to come anywhere near him, Mistbright was predicting his death with even more conviction than usual, and he did so badly at Summoning Charms in Shortlegs' class that he was given extra homework. He was the only cat to get any besides Toadfall.

"It's not hard, Nightfang," Fawnwillow tried to comfort him as they left class; she had made a few objects zoom across the room to her all lesson, as if she was a weird magnet for board rags, trash cans, and luna-scopes. "You just weren't concentrating properly, that's all."

"Wonder why," Nightfang muttered darkly as Oakheart padded past, surrounded by a large group of simpering she-cats, all of whom looked at him like he was a muddy dog let loose in the house. "Still...never mind. We got Double Potions to look forward to this afternoon..."

**...**

Double Potions was always a horrible experience, but these days it was nothing but pure torture. Being shut in a dungeon for ninety minutes with Brokenfang and ViperClan, all of whom seemed firm on punishing Nightfang as much as possible for daring to become school guardian, was the most unpleasant thing Nightfang felt. He had already struggled through one Friday's worth, with Fawnwillow sitting next to him crooning "ignore them, ignore them, ignore them" quietly under her breath, and he couldn't see why today should be any better.

When he and Fawnwillow arrived at the dungeon after lunch, they found the ViperClan cats just outside, each and every one of them wearing a badge on their chests. For a moment, Nightfang thought they were S.E.A.L.R. badges...he saw that they all bore the same message, in shining red letters that burned brightly in the dimly lit hall:

SUPPORT OAKHEART DIGGORY!

THE REAL FOREST GUARDIAN!

"Like them?" Iceheart called loudly as Nightfang approached. "And this isn't all they do. Look!"

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message vanished to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:

POTTER STINKS!

The ViperClan cats sneered with jeering laugher. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message POTTER STINKS was shining brightly all around Nightfang. He felt the heat rise in his face, neck, and fur until he was getting angry. This was getting to be way too much. And he could not block out the shrieking jeer of Pugface Parkinson, an ugly tan she-cat with a black flat face like a pug.

"Very funny," Fawnwillow growled sarcastically to Pugface's mob of she-cats, who were laughing harder at Nightfang than anyone. "REALLY funny. I even forgot to laugh!"

Redstone was standing near the wall with Sandfur and Ashfoot. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Nightfang either. This rejection made Nightfang's fur stand on edge and his nose snort out angry steam.

"Want one, Granger?" Iceheart sneered, holding out a badge to Fawnwillow. "I've got lots here. But don't touch my paw. I don't want a kittyblood dirtying it up."

Some of the anger Nightfang had felt for days and days seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. He unsheathed his claws and held up his tail-wand before he thought what he was doing. Cats all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.

Seeing this, Fawnwillow called warningly, "Nightfang, no!"

Iceheart hissed as he raised his tail and slid out his claws, "Go on, Potter. Do it. Moody's not here to save you now. Do it if you've got the guts!"

For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted. They leapt at each other, Nightfang's teeth sinking into Iceheart's tail while the British Shorthair lashed at his face with his claws. Then they sprang back, Nightfang's face dripping with blood and clumps of fur missing from Iceheart's flank. And when they finished panting, they yowled their spells at each other.

_"Funnunculus!"_ Nightfang roared.

_"Densaugeo!"_ Iceheart screeched.

Spurts of light shot from both tail-wands, hit each other in midair, and bounced off at different angle. Nightfang's spell hit Monkeynose in the face, and Iceheart's spell his Fawnwillow in the face too. Monkeynose bellowed and pawed at his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up. But Fawnwillow, whimpering in panic, was clutching at her mouth, a paw over it.

"Fawnwillow!"

Redstone had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Nightfang turned and saw the orange tom dragging Fawnwillow's paw gently away from her face. It was NOT a pretty sight. The light tabby's canine teeth...which were already larger than average...were now growing at a very alarming rate; she was looking more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin. Terrified, she felt them and let out a terrified cry for help, but Nightfang had no idea what to do about this.

"And what is all this about?" a soft deadly voice hissed.

Brokenfang had arrived at the scene. The ViperClan cats shouted to give their explanations. But Brokenfang flicked his tail at Iceheart and meowed, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir!"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Nightfang growled.

"And he hit Monkeynose! Look!"

Brokenfang examined the younger dark tom, whose face now resembled something that would look like poisonous fungi. Finally, he flicked his tail away and meowed, "Medicine den, Goyle."

Redstone stepped forth to added, "And Malfoy got Fawnwillow! Look!"

He beckoned her over to Brokenfang and let her show her teeth. She was doing her best to hide them with her paw, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her neck. Pugface and the other ViperClan she-cats were doubled up with silent cruel giggles, pointing at her from behind Brokenfang's back. Nightfang, hearing this, turned around to snarl, "Shut your mouths! It's not funny!" before turning back.

Brokenfang looked down at Fawnwillow coldly, then he meowed... "I see no difference."

Fawnwillow let out a whimper of shame. Her eyes filled with tears, she turned on the spot and ran all the way up the hall and out of sight.

It was lucky, perhaps, that Nightfang and Redstone started yowling at Brokenfang at the same time. It was unlucky their voices echoed so much in the stone hallway, for in the confused noise, it was impossible for him to hear what they were calling him. He got the meaning, however.

"Let's see," he meowed in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from LionClan and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside or it'll be a quarter-moon of detentions."

Nightfang's ears were ringing as he felt his fur bristle worse than ever. The injustice of it made him want to curse Brokenfang and tear him into a thousand slimy pieces. He stalked past the dark tabby cat, stalked with Redstone to the back of the dungeon, and slammed his bag down onto the table. He turned to see that Redstone was shaking with anger too.

For a moment, it felt like everything was back to normal between them, but Redstone turned and sat with Ashfoot and Sandfur instead, leaving the Maine Coon mix alone. On the other side of the dungeon, Iceheart looked away from Brokenfang and pressed his badge, sneering. POTTER STINKS flashed once more across the room. Nightfang glared at them both as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to them. If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse, then he would have them flat on their backs like that mouse, jerking and twitching...

Brokenfang glared at them all, his cold eyes glittering perilously. "Antidotes!" he barked. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then we will be selecting someone on whom to test one..."

His eyes met Nightfang's, and the latter knew what was coming. Brokenfang was going to poison him in front of the entire class. Nightfang imagined picking up his pot, sprinting to the front of the class, and bringing it down on Brokenfang's head. And then a knock on the dungeon door burst in on his angry thoughts.

It was Mousepelt. The speckled brown Egyptian Mau was edging into the room, smiling a bit at Nightfang, and walked up to Brokenfang's desk at the front of the room.

"Yes?" Brokenfang asked curtly.

"Sir, I'm supposed to take Nightfang Potter upstairs," came the reply.

Brokenfang stared down his nose at Mousepelt, whose smile faded from his eager face. "Potter has another hour of Potions to complete," he responded coldly. "He will come upstairs when this class is finished."

Mousepelt went a little pink, but he meowed on nervously, ""But sir, Mr. Bagman wants him. All the guardians have to go. I think they want to take pictures or something."

Hearing this, Nightfang would have given anything he owned to have stopped Mousepelt from saying those last few words. He chanced half a glance at Redstone, but the American Shorthair was staring determinedly at the ceiling.

"Very well, very well," Brokenfang snapped. "Potter, leave your things here. I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"But sir, he's gotta take his things with him," Mousepelt replied. "All the guardians..."

At this, Brokenfang snapped, "Very _well_! Potter, take your bag and get out of my sight!"

So Nightfang swung his bag around his neck, got up from his seat, and padded to the door. As he walked through the ViperClan desks, POTTER STINKS flashed at him from their direction. The moment he closed the dungeon door, he found Mousepelt staring at him with a smile.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" the speckled brown tom mewed. "You being a guardian?"

"Yeah, sure," Nightfang sighed heavily as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. "So what do they want pictures for, Mousepelt?"

"The Daily Warrior, I think!"

Nightfang let out another dull sigh. "Great. Just what I need. More publicity."

But Mousepelt didn't listen to the cynicism. Instead, when they reached the right room, the small tom mewed "Good luck!" and left. All alone in front of the room, he knocked on the door and padded inside.

He was in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks were pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle. Three of them, however, were placed end-to-end in front of the chalkboard and covered with a long strip of velvet. Five chairs were set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Graytail was sitting in one of them, talking to a she-cat Nightfang had never seen before. The she-cat was wearing a magenta cape.

Earthclaw was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Oakheart and Swanflight were talking with each other. Swanflight looked happier than Nightfang had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery-white fur caught the light. A plump cat, holding a large smoking black camera, was watching the white she-cat out of the corner of his eye.

Graytail suddenly spotted Nightfang, got up quickly, and leapt forth. "Ah, here he is! Guardian number four! In you come, Nightfang, in you come. Nothing to worry about; it's just the tail-wand weighing ceremony. The rest of the judges will be here in a moment."

"Tail-wand weighing?" Nightfang gulped nervously.

"We have to check that your tail-wands are fully functional. No problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," Graytail explained. "The specialist's upstairs now with Silverstar. And then there'll be a photo shoot. This is Tansy Skeeter," he added, flicking his tail to the she-cat in the magenta cape. "She's doing a small piece for the Daily Warrior."

"Maybe not that small," Tansy meowed, her eyes on Nightfang. Her pale orange fur was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles around her eyes, which had brown patches around them. The thick paws clutching her alligator-skin handbag ended in painted crimson claws. She even appeared to be a Selkirk Rex.

"May I have a little word with Nightfang before we start?" she meowed to Graytail but still gazing fixedly at Nightfang. "The youngest guardian, you know...to add a bit of color?"

The gray tom nodded. "Certainly! But...Nightfang, do you have an objection?"

"Erm-" Nightfang stuttered.

"Excellent," Tansy meowed. In a second, her scarlet-clawed paws had Nightfang's shoulder in a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him out of the room again and opening a nearby door. "We don't want to be in there with all that noise," she meowed. "Let's see...ah yes, this is nice and cozy."

It was a cupboard. Nightfang stared at her as he stated, "It's a cupboard."

Tansy ignored him, perching herself riskily upon an upturned bucket and pushing him down onto a cardboard box. Then she closed the door, throwing them into darkness. "Let's see now..." She unsnapped her bag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a quick wave of her tail-wand and magicked into midair so that they could see what they were doing.

"You won't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you? It leaves us free to talk normally."

"A what?" Nightfang asked.

But at that, Tansy smile widened, so Nightfang counted three gold teeth. She reached again into her bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate of All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. She put the tip of the green quill into her mouth, sucked it for a moment with outward relish, and placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point. It was quivering slightly.

"Testing...my name is Tansy Skeeter, Daily Warrior reporter."

Nightfang hooked down quickly at the quill. The moment Tansy had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skidding across the parchment: _Attractive blonde Tansy Skeeter, forty-three, who's savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations, now speaks with young Nightfang Potter, a young cat at age twelve-_

"I'm fourteen," Nightfang corrected.

"Lovely," Tansy meowed yet again (isn't that annoying?). She ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her bag. Now she leaned towards Nightfang and meowed, "So Nightfang...what made you decide to enter the Tournament?"

Nightfang wanted to protest that he didn't, but he was distracted by the quill. Although he wasn't talking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake he could make out a fresh sentence:

_An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, scars the otherwise attractive face of Nightfang Potter, whose eyes-_

Seeing this, Tansy meowed firmly, "Ignore the quill." So when he turned around, she meowed, "Now why did you decide to enter the tournament?"

"I didn't," Nightfang meowed, finding his voice again. "I don't know how my name got into the Trophy of Fire. I didn't put it in there. Someone else must've done it."

"Come now, there's no need to be scared of getting into trouble," the pale ginger cat told him, raising a heavily penciled brow. "We all know you shouldn't really have entered at all. But don't worry. Our readers love a rebel."

Nightfang sighed. "But I didn't enter. I don't know who-"

But Tansy interrupted, "How do you feel about the missions ahead? Excited? Nervous?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought...yeah, nervous," Nightfang admitted. His guts squirmed uncomfortably inside his body as he spoke.

"Guardians have died in the past, haven't they?" Tansy asked briskly. "Have you thought about that at all?"

Nightfang nodded. "Yeah. But they DID say it's gonna be a lot safer this year."

Tansy nodded. "Lovely. Because you are no ordinary twelve year old cat, are you?"

"Fourteen," Nightfang corrected again.

The quill whizzed across the paper between them, back and forward as if it was skating. Tansy was watching closely as she mewed, "Of course, you've looked death in the face before, haven't you? How would you say that's affected you?"

"Erm..." Nightfang mewed yet again.

"You're story's legendary, of course. Do you think the trauma in your past might make you keen to prove yourself?" Tansy asked. "To live up to your name? Do you think you were tempted to enter the Tournament because -"

Nightfang let out a small growl, starting to feel irritated. She was deliberately teasing him by keeping on saying he entered the Tournament by himself! So he retorted, "Look, I told you. I didn't put my name in the-"

Tansy meowed over him, "And speaking of your parents...how do you think they'd feel if they knew you were competing in the Tri-warrior Tournament? Proud? Angry? Or concerned that your attitude shows, at best, a pathological need for attention? The worst psychotic death wish."

Nightfang was feeling really annoyed now. How in StarClan's name would he know how his parents would feel if they were alive? He could feel Tansy watching him very intently, and that was making him feel uncomfortable. Frowning, he avoided her gaze and hooked down at words the quill had just written:

_Tears fill those startlingly green eyes as our chat turns to the parents he can barely remember._

"Hey, I DON'T have tears in my eyes!" Nightfang hissed loudly.

Before Tansy could say a word, the door of the cupboard was pulled open. Nightfang looked around, blinking in the bright light, and was relieved to see a certain cat there. Silverstar stood there, looking down at both of them, as they were squashed into the cupboard.

"Silverstar!" Tansy meowed with delight. Nightfang saw that her quill and the parchment had vanished from the box of Magical Mess Remover, and Tansy's paws were snapping shut her bag. "How are you?" she asked, standing up and holding out one of her paws to Silverstar. "Did you see my piece in greenleaf about the Worldwide Alliance of Warriors' Meeting?"

"Intriguingly nasty," the silver tabby Persian purred, his blue eyes twinkling. "I mainly enjoyed your description of me as an out-of-date dinosaur."

But Tansy didn't look abashed. "I was just saying that some of your ideas are a little outdated, sir, and that many warriors in the street-"

Silverstar gave her a smile and a courteous bow. "I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Tail-Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our guardians is in a cupboard."

Very glad to get away from Tansy, Nightfang hurried back into the room. The other guardians were now sitting in chairs near the door, and he sat down next to Oakheart, looking up at the velvet table, where four of the five judges were sitting: Coldstar, Fuzzystar, Crouchfoot, and Graytail. Tansy settled herself down in a corner; Nightfang saw her slip the paper out of her bag again, set it down, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it on the paper.

"May I introduce Mr. Olive Ollivander?" Silverstar meowed, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the guardians. "He will be checking your tail-wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Nightfang hooked around, and with a jolt of surprise, he saw an old gray tabby tom with large pale silver eyes standing quietly by the window. The British Shorthair mix had met Olive before; he was the tail-wand maker from whom Nightfang had bought his own tail-wand over three years ago in Dragon Alley.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" Olive purred, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Swanflight swept over to Olive and handed him her tail-wand. He twirled it around like a limp snake, and it secreted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and inspected it carefully.

He nodded and purred, "Yes...five kit-steps...inflexible...rosewood...and containing...oh my..."

"An 'air from ze fur of a lynx," Swanflight. "One of my grandmuzzer's. I am part Purrsian along with part lynx."

_So Swanflight IS part lynx! _Nightfang thought. He decided to tell Redstone about it...but in time, he remembered that he wasn't speaking to him.

"Yes, yes," Olive meowed. "I've never used lynx fur myself, of course. I find it makes for rather erratic tail-wands...however, to each his own, and if this suits you..." He ran a paw along the tail-wand, checking for scratches. Then he muttered, _"Orchideous!"_,and a bunch of flowers burst out from the tip.

"Very well, very well...it's in fine working order," Olive purred, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Swanflight with her tail-wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next."

The white she-cat glided back to her seat, smiling at Oakheart as he passed her. The California Spangled Cat smiled back at her before he sat down in front of the grizzled gray tabby.

As Oakheart handed over his own tail-wand, Olive purred with more enthusiasm, "Ah, so this is one of mine, isn't it? Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a fine male unicorn...must have been seventeen paws high; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Seven kit-steps...ash...pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition...you treat it regularly?"

"Yes, sir. Polished it last night," Oakheart purred, grinning.

Nightfang hooked down at his own tail-wand. He could see several earthy spots and grass stains all over it. He turned around and tried to lick it clean secretly with his tongue. Several golden sparks shot out of the end of it, and Swanflight gave him a very demeaning look, so he stopped.

Olive sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from Oakheart's tail-wand, marked himself satisfied, and then meowed, "Mr. Krum, if you please."

Earthclaw got up and slumped, round-shouldered and duck-footed, towards Olive. The big dark tabby thrust out his tail-wand and stood scowling, his eyes narrowing.

"Hmm," Olive murmured. "This is a Gregorovitch creation, is it not? A fine tail-wand maker, though the designing is never quite what I...however..."

He lifted the tail-wand and examined it closely, turning it over before his eyes. "Yes...hornbeam and griffin heartstring?" he asked Earthclaw, who nodded. "Rather thicker than those one usually sees...quite rigid...eight kit-steps..._Avis!"_

The hornbeam tail-wand let off a blast hike a firestick, and a number of twittering white birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the sunlight.

"Good," Olive purred, giving Earthclaw his tail-wand back. "Which leaves...Mr. Potter."

So Nightfang got to his paws and walked past Earthclaw over to Olive. He handed over his tail-wand and waited, patiently and nervously.

"Aaaah, yes," Olive purred, his pale eyes gleaming. "How well I remember, Mr. Potter."

Nightfang could remember too. He could remember it as if it happened yesterday...

Four years ago (when he was Nightkit), on his eleventh birthday, he had entered Olive's shop with Badgerstripe to buy a tail-wand. Olive had taken his measurements and handed him two tail-wands to try. Nightkit had waved them until at last, he had found the one that suited him: this one, which was made of holly, seven kit-steps long, and held a feather from the tail of a phoenix. Olive had been surprised that Nightkit was so well-matched with this tail-wand. "Curious...very curious," he had said, and he had explained that the phoenix feather in Nightkit's tail-wand had come from the same bird that had supplied the core of Red Helmet's.

Nightfang had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his tail-wand; as far as he was concerned, its relation to Red Helmet's tail-wand couldn't be helped...like he couldn't help being related to Aunt Tulip. But he really hoped that Olive wasn't about to tell the room about it. He had a funny feeling Tansy's Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if he did.

Olive spent much longer examining this tail-wand than anyone else's. Finally, however, he made a fountain of red wine shoot out of it and handed it back to Nightfang, revealing that it was still in perfect condition.

"Thank you all," Silverstar purred, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lessons now...or it would be quicker just to go down to dinner. They are about to end."

Feeling that at last something had gone right today, Nightfang got up to leave, but the cat with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos!" Graytail squealed excitedly. "All the judges and guardians, Tansy?"

"Er...yes, let's do those first," Tansy meowed, her eyes upon Nightfang once again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

The photos took a long time. Fuzzystar cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the paparazzo couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Coldstar twirled his goatee-like fur on his chin around his claw to give it an extra curl. Earthclaw, whom Nightfang would have thought would have been used to this, skulked at the back of the group. The paparazzo seemed keenest to get Swanflight at the front, but Tansy kept hurrying forth and dragging a reluctant Nightfang into greater status, insisting on separate shots of all the guardians. At last, they were free to go.

**...**

So Nightfang went down to dinner. Fawnwillow wasn't there; he guessed she was still in the medicine den having her teeth fixed. Thus, he ate alone at the end of the table and then returned to LionClan Tower, thinking of all the extra work on Summoning Charms that he had to do. But up in the dorm, he came across Redstone.

"You've got an owl," the ginger tom meowed brusquely as soon as he padded in. He flicked his tail to Nightfang's nest, and the school boreal owl was waiting for him there. Beside him was a black tawny owl staring at him with wide orange eyes.

"Oh...okay."

Redstone went on, "And we've got to do our detentions for Brokenfang tomorrow night."

He then padded out of the room, not looking back at him. For a moment, the Maine Coon mix considered going after him; he wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to him or hit him, for both seemed quite appealing. But the lure of Padfoot's answer was too strong. So Nightfang strode over to the barn owl, took the letter off its leg, and unrolled it.

_Nightfang,_

_I can't explain everything in a letter; it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted. So we need to talk face-to-face. Can you make sure that you're alone by the fire in Lionclan Tower at one a. the morning on the 22nd of November?_

_I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and when you're around Silverstar and Mad-Eye, I don't think anyone will hurt you. However, someone or something seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Silverstar's watch._

_Be on the lookout, Nightfang. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can._

_Padfoot_

At this, the tawny owl reached over and nipped Nightfang's ear hard. The black cat grunted in pain; this hurt unlike Katara's affectionate nipping of her beak. He looked back to the letter to see a new message underneath:

_P.S: The black owl bites._

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: Well, folks, today's Halloween. And as usual, I'm not going trick-or-treating this year. I mean, who the heck would want to give a 19-year-old candy on Halloween night? So...I think I might get a bag of candy from the store and hang around...pathetic, isn't it?**

**But anyways, since today's Halloween, here's a little prize for you all. Anyone who reads and reviews this chapter will receive a virtual figurine of their favorite character of these five series (Pokémon, Avatar: The Last AirBender, The Legend Of Korra, Warrior Cats, and Harry Potter) in Halloween costumes. I won't allow flames 'cause it reminds me of being burned at a stake, but I allow constructive criticism and advice.**

**And also...I'm planning on making an Avatar Bloopers FanFic. I've already gotten some down, but if you guys want, you can give some ideas here, and I'll give all credit to you. But anyways...I think I said too much.**

**See ya next time! And Happy Halloween!**


	19. The Australian Horntail

**AvatarCat12: Hey everyone! I was out trick-or-treating yesterday with my cousin, his girlfriend, and their son. The little tyke was cute all dressed up in a skeleton costume. In fact, many people in town were saying how cute he-**

**Harry: Wait a minute, Avatar Cat. Wasn't Halloween on October 31st?**

**AvatarCat12: Yeah. But it's thanks to the hurricane that they had to move trick-or-treating to November 1****st**** instead. And also, I had some trouble with my laptop since it was attacked by viruses, but it's fine for now. My aunt helped me out.**

**Harry: That's good. Hope you thanked her.**

**AvatarCat12: I did. And now, let's celebrate with this new chapter...with the disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: You all know what that means. It means I don't own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats.**

**Uploading Date: November 7, 2012**

**Both: Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Australian Horntail**_

The vision of talking with Padfoot was all that sustained Nightfang over the next night, the only bright spot on a horizon that had never looked darker. The shock of being school guardian had worn off slightly now, and the fear of what he had to face had started to sink in. The first mission was drawing steadily nearer; he felt like it was towering above him like a giant bear, barring his path. He had never suffered nerves like these before; they were way beyond anything he had felt before an AirBall match, not even his last one against ViperClan. Nightfang found it hard to think about the future, for he felt like his life was heading to, and ending with, the first mission.

Admittedly, he didn't see how Padfoot would make him feel any better about having to perform an unknown piece of difficult and dangerous magic in front of cats, but the sight of a friendly face would be something good. So Nightfang wrote back, saying he would be next to the den room fire at the time Padfoot had suggested, and he and Fawnwillow spent time going over plans for forcing any stragglers out of the den room on that night. If the worst came to the worst, they were going to drop a bag of Skunk Bombs, but they hoped they wouldn't have to resort to that. Oscar would skin them alive for sure.

In the meantime, life became even more terrible for Nightfang within the castle, for Tansy had just published her piece about the Tri-warrior Tournament, and it turned out to not be a report on the tournament, but as a highly colored life story of Nightfang. Much of the front page had been given over to a picture of the black cat; the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about him, the names of the Oasis and Mountain Guardians (misspelled) were squeezed into the last line of the article, and Oakheart wasn't mentioned at all.

The article had appeared ten days ago, and Nightfang still got a burning feeling of shame in his belly whenever he thought about it. Tansy had reported him saying an awful lot of things that he couldn't remember ever saying in his life, let alone in that closet.

_I get my strength and courage from my parents. I know they'll be proud of me if they could see me now. Yes, sometimes, I still cry about them. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, for they're watching over me._

But Tansy had gone even further than transforming his "er's" into long cloying sentences. She had interviewed other cats about him too. Whenever he read the next part, this had made him feel so embarrassed that he wanted to hide in a hole and stay there. But this caught up with him so quickly that it made him groan throughout the entire article.

_Nightfang has at last found love at the Forest. His closest friend, Mousepelt Creevey, says that Nightfang is rarely seen out of the company of Fawnwillow Granger, a strikingly good-looking kittypet-born she-cat who, like Nightfang, is one of the top students in the school._

From the moment the article had appeared, Nightfang had to endure cats (mainly ViperClan) quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments. Every single comment made his claws slide out, his fur bristle, and his lips peel into a snarl.

"Wanna blow your nose, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?"

"Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?"

"Hey, Nightfang!"

"Yeah, that's right!" Nightfang found himself snarling as he wheeled around in the hall, having enough of this. "Keep talking; it's really helpful! I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mom, and I'm just off to do a bit more!"

"No...you dropped your quill."

It was Rainleaf, watching him with concern in her blue eyes. Nightfang felt the red heat rising in his face, ashamed of acting how he did.

"Oh...sorry," he muttered, taking the quill back.

Rainleaf shrugged. "It's fine. Er...good luck on Tuesday. I really hope you do great."

That left him feeling stupid.

Fawnwillow had come in for her fair share of nastiness too, but she hadn't started yowling at bystanders; in fact, Nightfang admired the way she was handling the situation. Once, when they padded down the hall, Pugface had sneered, "She's an ugly chipmunk! They're not strikingly good-looking!"

**(Author's Note: Pardon me for the language, but...someone needs to slap some sense into that bitch! Human AND cat form!)**

Nightfang turned to snarl at the snickering ViperClan she-cat, but Fawnwillow stalked past her, her head held high and looking as if she couldn't hear her. "Ignore it," she mewed from the corner of her mouth. "Just ignore it, Nightfang."

But Nightfang couldn't ignore it. Redstone hadn't spoken to him since he had told him about Brokenfang's detentions. The Maine Coon mix had hoped they would make things up during the two hours they had to soak mouse brains in the dungeon, but that was the day Tansy's article had appeared, which seemed to have confirmed the ginger tom's belief that Nightfang was enjoying all the attention.

Fawnwillow was furious with them; she went from one to the other, trying to force them to talk with each other, but Nightfang was stubborn. He wouldn't speak to Redstone ever again until he admitted that Nightfang didn't put his name in the Trophy and apologized for calling him a liar.

"I didn't start this," he growled willfully. "It's his fault."

"But you miss him!" Fawnwillow retorted impatiently. "And I know he misses you too."

Nightfang snorted. "No I don't!"

But this was a lie. He liked Fawnwillow very much (though not as a mate), but she just wasn't the same as Redstone. There was much less laughter and more hanging around the library when she was one's best friend. Nightfang still hadn't mastered Summoning Charms, for he seemed to have developed something of a block about them, and she insisted that learning the theory would help him. They thus spent a lot of time reading their books during lunch.

Earthclaw was in the library an awful lot too, and Nightfang wondered what he was up to. Was the dark tabby tom studying, or was he looking for something that could help him in the first mission? Fawnwillow often complained about him being there, not that he bothered them, but because groups of giggling she-cats often turned up to spy on him from behind bookshelves, and Fawnwillow found the noise off-putting...like the word "off-putting".

"He's not even handsome!" she muttered angrily, glaring at his sharp profile. "They only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him if he couldn't do that Wonky-Faint thing or whatever you call it..."

"Wronski Feint," Nightfang sighed through gritted teeth. Apart from liking to get AirBall terms correct, it caused him another twinge to imagine Redstone's expression if he could have heard her talking about Wonky-Faints.

**...**

This is strange, but let me tell you: when you dread something and would give anything to slow down time, it has a rude habit of speeding up. Anyways, back to the story. The days until the first task seemed to slip by as if someone fixed the clocks to work at dual speed. Nightfang's feeling of barely exact panic was with him wherever he went, as chronic as the malicious remarks about the Daily Warrior article.

On the Saturday before the first task, all cats in the third year and above were permitted to visit the Village, a place where cats went to for relaxation. Fawnwillow told Nightfang that it would help him get away from the castle for a bit, and he didn't need much persuasion.

"What about Redstone?" Nightfang asked. "Don't you wanna go with him?"

"Oh...well..." Fawnwillow went slightly pink. "I thought we could meet up with him in the Three Wings sometime..."

"No."

Fawnwillow sighed. "Really? This is SO stupid!"

It was Nightfang's turn to sigh. "I'll come, but I won't meet up with Redstone. And I'll wear my Invisibility Pelt."

"Fine," Fawnwillow snapped. "But I hate talking to you in that Pelt. I never know if I'm looking at you or not."

So the British Shorthair mix put on his Invisibility Pelt in the dorm, making sure no others were seeing him, and went back downstairs. And together, the two cats set off for the Village.

Nightfang felt delightfully free under the Pelt; he watched other cats walking past them as they entered the village, most of them sporting _Support Oakheart Diggory!_ badges, but no horrible remarks came his way for once, and nobody was reciting that stupid article. It had begun to snow outside even though it wasn't leaf-bare yet. But the two cats knew that snow could come down even in leaf-fall, for they had seen deer eating bark from tree trunks.

As the two cats came out of the Honeycomb Candy Shop, eating large Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Fawnwillow mewed grumpily, "They keep looking at _me_ now. They think I'm talking to myself or an imaginary friend."

Nightfang rolled his eyes. "Don't move your lips so much, then."

"Just take that Pelt off for a bit. No one's gonna bother you here."

"Oh yeah?" Nightfang muttered. "Look behind you."

Tansy and her paparazzo friend had just emerged from the Three Wings inn. Talking in low voices, they passed right by Fawnwillow without hooking at her. Nightfang backed into the wall of Honeycomb to stop Tansy from hitting him with her alligator-skin handbag. When they were gone, he mewed, "She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first mission."

As he said it, his belly flooded with an upsurge of molten panic. He didn't mention this, for he and Fawnwillow hadn't talked over what was coming in the first mission much. He had a feeling that she didn't want to think about it.

"She's gone," the Angora mix mewed, looking through Nightfang to the end of the street. "Why don't we go get a hot latte in the Three Wings? It's a bit cold out here, huh? And you don't have to talk to Redstone!" she added irritably, correctly reading his silence.

The Three Wings was packed, mainly with Forest cats enjoying their free afternoon, but also with a variety of animals Nightfang rarely saw anywhere else. He supposed that as the Village was the only all-animal community in Alaska, it was a bit of a sanctuary for animals as gorillas, who were endangered Twoleg-like animals of Africa.

It was very hard to move through crowds in the Invisibility Pelt in case you accidentally strode on someone, which tended to lead to difficult questions. Nightfang edged slowly towards a spare table in the corner while Fawnwillow went to buy drinks. On his way through the inn, he spotted Redstone, who was sitting with the twins and Quicktongue. Resisting the urge to give him a good hard poke in the back of the head, he finally reached the table and sat down at it. In a little while, Fawnwillow joined him a moment later and slipped him a hot latte under the Pelt.

"I look like an idiot, sitting here on my own," she muttered. "But I brought something to do to pass the time."

And she pulled out a notebook in which she kept a record of S.E.A.L.R. members. Nightfang saw his and Redstone's names at the top of the very short list. It seemed once upon a time that they sat making up those predictions together, and Fawnwillow had turned up and appointed them secretary and treasurer.

Looking around the inn, Fawnwillow meowed thoughtfully, "You know, maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in S.E.A.L.R."

"Yeah right," Nightfang replied, lapping at the latte under his cloak. He licked the drink away from his muzzle and went on, "When are you going to give up on this 'sealr' shit?"

"When lemurs have decent wages and working conditions!" the light brown tabby she-cat hissed back. "And it's not 'sealr'; it's S.E.A.L.R. You know, I'm thinking it's time for some more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens?"

Nightfang shrugged. "Ask the twins."

Fawnwillow fell into thoughtful silence while Nightfang lapped up his warm latte, observing the animals in the pub. All of them looked jolly and relaxed. Birchfrost and Snowfall were swapping Chocolate Toad cards at a nearby table, both of them wearing some _Support Oakheart Diggory!_ badges on their chests. Right over by the door, he saw Rainleaf and her RavenClan friends. She wasn't wearing an Oakheart badge though; this cheered up Nightfang very slightly.

He would give anything to be one of these cats, sitting around while laughing and talking, with nothing to worry about but homework? He imagined how it would be to be here if his name had not come out of the Trophy. He wouldn't be wearing the Invisibility Pelt, for one thing. Redstone would be sitting with him and still talking to him. The three of them would probably be happily imagining what deadly dangerous mission the guardians would face on Tuesday. He would have been looking forward to it, watching them do the mission, whatever it was...cheering on for Oakheart with everyone else, safe in a seat at the back of the stands...

He wondered how the other guardians were feeling. Whenever he saw Oakheart recently, the golden tabby tom had been surrounded by fans and looking nervous but excited. He glimpsed Swanflight now and again in the hallways; she looked exactly as she always did, arrogant and calm. And Earthclaw just sat in the library, reading books as usual.

Nightfang thought of Padfoot, and the tight tense knot in his chest seemed to ease somewhat. He would be speaking to him in just twelve hours, for tonight was the night they were meeting at the common room fire. He hoped nothing went wrong, as everything else had done lately.

"Hey Badgerstripe!" Fawnwillow called.

The back of Badgerstripe's huge shaggy head (he had mercifully abandoned his bunches) had emerged over the crowd. Nightfang wondered why he hadn't spotted him at once, as he was so large, but standing up carefully, he saw that the big black cat was leaning low, talking to Mad-Eye. Badgerstripe had his usual vast mug in front of him, but Mad-Eye was drinking from his hip flask. Roseflower Rosmerta, the pretty calico landowner, didn't seem to think much of this; she was looking sideways at Mad-Eye as she collected glasses from tables around them. Perhaps she thought it was an insult to her spiced mead, but Nightfang knew better. Mad-Eye had said during their last Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that he chose to prepare his own food and drink at all times, for it was so easy for Dark warriors to poison an unattended mug.

As Nightfang watched, he saw the two cats get up to leave. He waved, then he remembered that Badgerstripe couldn't see him. Mad-Eye, however, paused, his magical eye on the corner where he was standing. He tapped Badgerstripe on a muscular foreleg (for he could not reach his broad shoulder), muttered something to him, and then the two cats made their way back across the inn towards the youngsters' table.

"Hey Fawnwillow!" Badgerstripe called back loudly. "Doin' good, kid?"

Fawnwillow nodded. "Yep."

May-Eye limped around the table and bent down low. Nightfang thought he was reading the S.E.A.L.R. notebook until he muttered, "Nice Pelt you got there, Potter."

Nightfang stared at him in shock. The large chunk missing from Mad-Eye's nose was particularly obvious at a few kitten-steps' distance.

"Can your eye...I mean, can you-?"

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Pelts," the dark gray tom meowed quietly, smiling. "And it's come in useful from time to time, I can tell you that."

Badgerstripe was beaming down at Nightfang too. The younger black cat knew couldn't see him, but Mad-Eye had obviously told Badgerstripe he was there. Fawnwillow had leaned a bit forth to hear what the big black cat was whispering in her ear, so she turned back to Nightfang, looking a bit nervous.

"Nightfang?" she mewed. "Earlier Redstone wanted me to tell you that Sandfur told him that Ashfoot was told by Daisystem that Badgerstripe wants to talk with you."

"Is that right? Well...what?"

Fawnwillow repeated, "Uh...Ashfoot was told by Daisystem...please don't ask me to say it again. Badgerstripe wants to talk with you."

Nightfang snorted. "Well you can tell Redstone that-"

"For the second time, I'm not a damn owl!" Fawnwillow snapped before turning back to where Badgerstripe was sitting at.

The big black cat now bent down on the excuse of reading the S.E.A.L.R. notebook as well and whispered so low that only he could hear it, "Meet me tonight at moonhigh at me cabin. Wear that Pelt of yers." Straightening up, he meowed loudly, "Nice talkin' with yeh, Fawnwillow," winked, and departed as Mad-Eye followed him.

"Why does Badgerstripe want me to meet him at moonhigh?" Nightfang asked, surprised.

"Does he?" Fawnwillow mewed, looking startled. "I wonder what he's up to? But are you sure you can go tonight?" She looked nervously around and added, "It might make you late for that talk with Padfoot."

It was true that going down to the hut at moonhigh would mean discontinuing his meeting with Padfoot. Fawnwillow suggested sending Katara to Badgerstripe's place to tell him he couldn't go, always assuming she would agree to take the note, of course. Nightfang, however, thought it would just be quick at whatever Badgerstripe wanted him for. He was very curious to know what this might be, for Badgerstripe had never asked him to visit him so late at night before.

**...**

At half past eleven p.m., Nightfang, who had pretended to go to bed early, pulled the Invisibility Pelt back over himself and crept back downstairs through the den room. Quite a few cats were still in there. The Creevey brothers had managed to obtain a stack of _Support Oakheart Diggory!_ badges and were trying to bewitch them to make them say _Support Nightfang Potter! _instead. To this point, however, all they had managed to do was get the badges stuck on POTTER STINKS. Nightfang crept past them to the portrait hole and waited for a minute or so, keeping an eye on the moon outside. Then Fawnwillow opened the portrait for him from the outside as they had planned. He slipped past her with a whispered "Thanks!" and set off through the empty castle.

The grounds were very dark as owls were out for their nightly hunt. Nightfang padded down the lawn toward the lights shining in Badgerstripe's hut. The inside of the enormous Oasis carriage was also lit up; he could hear Fuzzystar talking from inside it as he knocked on Badgerstripe's front door.

"You there?" Badgerstripe whispered, opening the door and looking around.

"Yeah," Nightfang replied, slipping inside the log cabin and pulling the Pelt down off his head. "So what's up?"

Badgerstripe replied, "Got somethin' ter show yeh."

There was an air of enormous excitement about him. He was wearing a flower that resembled an enormous artichoke in the buttonhole. It looked like he had abandoned the use of axle grease, but he had tried to groom his fur. Nightfang could see the comb's broken teeth that were tangled in his bristly fur.

Then he wondered if the skrewts had laid eggs or Badgerstripe had managed to buy another giant three-headed dragon from a stranger in an inn. So he mewed, "What're you showing me?"

"Come with me, keep quiet, and keep yerself covered with that," Badgerstripe whispered. "We won't take Duke; he won't like it."

"Look, I can't stay long," Nightfang added. "I gotta be back up at the castle in an hour-"

But Badgerstripe wasn't listening; he was opening the cabin door and stepping off into the chilly night. So Nightfang hurried to follow and found, to his great surprise, that the big black cat was leading him to the Oasis carriage.

"What the hell...?"

"Shhh!" Badgerstripe rasped, knocking three times on the door bearing the golden crosses.

Fuzzystar was the one who opened it, wearing a silk scarf wrapped around her great shoulders. She looked over at Badgerstripe and gave him a warm purr.

"Ah, Badgerstripe...it is time?"

"Bong-sewer," Badgerstripe purred, beaming at her and nudging her gently down the steps.

Fuzzystar closed the door behind her, Badgerstripe pressed his side against hers, and they set off around the corral where the giant winged horses were, with a confused Nightfang scampering to keep up with them. Had Badgerstripe wanted to show him the big white she-cat? Nightfang let out a small disgusted groan that only he himself could hear. He could let him see her any time he wanted...she wasn't exactly hard to miss.

But it seemed that Fuzzystar was in for the same treat as Nightfang, because after a while, she purred playfully, "Wair is it you are taking me?"

"Yeh'll enjoy this," Badgerstripe meowed gruffly. "Worth seein', trust me. Only...don't go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, okay? Yeh ain't supposed ter know."

"Of course not," Fuzzystar meowed, fluttering her long black lashes.

And still they walked, Nightfang getting more irritated as he ran along in their wake, checking the moon every now and then. Badgerstripe had some wild scheme under control, which might make him miss Padfoot. If they didn't get there soon, he would turn around, go back to the castle, and leave Badgerstripe to enjoy his moonlit stroll with Fuzzystar.

_Good. That would keep him busy._

But then...when they had walked so far around the edge of the swamp that the castle and the sea were out of sight...the black cat heard something. Cats were yowling up ahead...then came a deafening earsplitting roar. Badgerstripe led Fuzzystar around a mass of trees and came to a halt. Nightfang hurried up beside them; for a split second, he thought he saw bonfires and cats darting around them...and then his mouth fell open.

_Dragons._

Four full-sized huge vicious-looking dragons were rearing on their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick wood, roaring and snorting. Gushes of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open fanged mouths, fifty cat-lengths above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping angrily; a red one with an odd trim of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a vast black one, more lizard-hike than the others, which was nearest to them.

At least thirty cats, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to leather straps around their necks and legs. Fascinated, Nightfang looked up above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a pit viper's, bulging with either fear or rage, but he couldn't tell which. It was making a horrible noise, a yowling screeching scream...

"Keep back!" a cat yowled near the fence, straining on the heavy chain he was holding. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty cat-lengths, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

"Ain't it beautiful?" Badgerstripe purred softly.

Nightfang stared on in disbelief, "Dragons?!" he hissed quietly. "That's what up for the first mission? You're joking!"

Badgerstripe nodded. "Yeah, come on. They're seriously misunderstood but beautiful critters. Although, I gotta admit, that Horntail's a nasty piece o' work. Poor Redstone nearly fainted just seeing 'em, yeh know."

"Redstone was here?" Nightfang asked, confused.

"Yeah. His brother Clawfoot brought 'em over from Africa," the gamekeeper replied. "Didn't Redstone tell you that?"

The black cat stared down at his paws, feeling a bit angry now. "No he didn't. He didn't tell me a thing about it."

"It's no good!" another cat yowled. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!"

Nightfang saw each dragon keeper raise their tails. "Stupefy!" they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' rough hides.

He watched the dragon nearest to them totter dangerously on its hind legs. Its jaws had stretched wide in a silent howl, and its nostrils were empty of flame, though they were still smoking. Then, very slowly, it fell. Several tons of strong scaly dragon hit the ground with a thud that Nightfang could have sworn made the earth shake.

The dragon keepers lowered their tail-wands and padded forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron spikes, which they forced deep into the ground.

"Wanna closer look?" Badgerstripe purred to Fuzzystar excitedly. The pair moved right up to the fence, and Nightfang followed. The warrior cat who had warned Badgerstripe not to come any closer turned, and he realized who it was: Clawfoot Weasley.

"Hey, Badgerstripe," the dark gray tom panted, coming over to talk. "They should be okay now; we put them out with a Sleeping Dose on the way here...thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and quiet. But, like you saw, they weren't happy."

"What kinds yeh got here?" Badgerstripe asked.

He was gazing at the closest dragon, the black one, with something chose to reverence. Its eyes were still just open, and Nightfang could see a strip of gleaming golden beneath its wrinkled black eyelid.

Clawfoot explained, "This here is an Australian Horntail. There's a Common Labrador Green over there; it's the smaller one. The blue-gray over there is a Spanish Short-Snout, and the red-orange one is an Indian Fireball."

The American Shorthair looked around, looking please with the progress. Fuzzystar was strolling away around the edge of the paddock, gazing at the stunned dragons.

"I didn't know you were bringing her," Clawfoot meowed, frowning. "Remember, the guardians aren't supposed to know what's coming. She'll be bound to tell her apprentice, won't she?"

"Just thought she'd like ter see 'em," Badgerstripe shrugged, still gazing at the dragons.

Clawfoot shook his scarred head. "Really romantic date you got there."

Badgerstripe counted the giant reptiles. "So it's one fer each o' the guardians, ain't it? What've they gotta do, fight 'em?"

Clawfoot meowed, "Just get by them, I think. We'll be nearby if it gets severe, Dousing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, and I don't know why...but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. It's one brutal animal; it's been known to eat livestock, dingoes, and kangaroos. Its tail is as dangerous as its head."

He pointed a scraped paw at the Horntail's tail. Nightfang could see long copper-colored spikes protruding along it a few mouse-lengths. Meanwhile, five of Clawfoot's fellow keepers staggered up to the Horntail at that moment, carrying a bunch of huge gray eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail's side, and Badgerstripe let out a moan of yearning.

"I've got them counted," Clawfoot meowed sternly, seeing the look in his eyes. Then he asked, "How's Nightfang doing?"

"Good," Badgerstripe purred, still gazing at the eggs.

Clawfoot grimly looked out over the paddock. "I just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot. I didn't tell Mom what he's gotta do for the first mission; she's having a fit about him now." Then he imitated his mother's anxious voice, saying, "'How can they let him enter? He's too young for it! I thought they were all safe...thought there'd be an age limit!' She was all in floods after that Daily Warrior article about him. 'He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!'" he added, mimicking his mother's voice again.

Nightfang had enough of this. Trusting that Badgerstripe wouldn't miss him, with the dragons and Fuzzystar to occupy him, he turned silently and began to stroll away, back to the castle.

He didn't know if he was glad what was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The first shock was over now. Maybe if he had seen the dragons for the first time on Tuesday, he would have passed out in front of the whole school...but maybe he would anyway. He was going to be armed with his tail-wand only (which now felt like nothing more than a sock) against a huge scaly spike-ridden fire-breathing dragon.

_And I have to get past it. With everyone watching. But how?_

So Nightfang ran on, skirting the edge of the forest; he had just under fifteen minutes to get back to the fireplace and talk with Padfoot, and he couldn't remember wanting to talk to anyone more than he did right now. But just then, without warning, he ran into something very solid. As he fell back, he heard a voice hiss, "Ouch! Who's there?"

Nightfang quickly checked to see if the Pelt was covering him and lay very still, staring up at the dark outline of the cat he had hit. He recognized the goatee fur and the black-&-silver tabby fur...it was Coldstar.

"Show yourself!" the Mountain leader called, looking around in the darkness.

But Nightfang remained still and silent. After a minute or so, Coldstar seemed to decide that he had hit an animal. He was looking around at his shoulder height as if expecting to see a small fox. Then he crept back under the shade of the trees and started to edge forward towards the place where the dragons were.

Very slowly and carefully, Nightfang got to his paws and set off again as fast as he could without making too much noise, hurrying through the darkness back toward the Forest castle. But he had no doubt about what Coldstar was up to. He had sneaked off his ship to try and find out what the first mission was going to be. He might even have spotted Badgerstripe and Fuzzystar heading off around the forest together; they were hardly difficult to spot at a distance. And now all he had to do was follow the voices, and he, like Fuzzystar, would know what was in the making for the four guardians.

By the looks of it, the only guardian who would not know on Tuesday was Oakheart.

Nightfang reached the castle, slipped in through the front doors, and began to climb up the many sandstone stairs; he was very out of breath, but he didn't dare slow down. He had less than five minutes to get up to the fire. He reached the Fat Queen, who was sleeping in her frame, and gave a gasp, "Boulder dash!"

"If you say so," she muttered sleepily without opening her eyes, and the picture swung forth to admit him. Nightfang climbed inside and looked around. The den room was empty, and, judging by the fact that it smelled normal, Fawnwillow seemed to not need to set off any Skunk Bombs to make sure that he and Padfoot got privacy.

He pulled off the Invisibility Pelt and leapt into an armchair in front of the fire. The room was in dimness; the flames were the only source of light. On a table, the _Support Oakheart Diggory!_ badges the Creevey brothers had been trying to improve were glinting in the firelight. They now read POTTER _REALLY_ STINKS. Ignoring that, Nightfang looked back into the flames and jumped a bit out of his chair.

Padfoot's head was sitting in the fire. If Nightfang hadn't seen Palefur Diggory do this back in the Weasleys' kitchen, it would have scared the fur off of him. Instead, smiling for the first time in days, he leapt out of his chair, bowed down by the fireplace, and mewed, "Hey, Padfoot. How're you doing?"

Padfoot looked different from Nightfang's memory of him. When they had separated, Padfoot's face had been thin and hollow, surrounded by a mass of long matted dark brown tabby fur. But the head fur was short and clean now, his face was fuller, and he looked younger, much like the only picture Nightfang had of him, which had been taken at the Potters' wedding.

"Fine, but forget about me," Padfoot meowed seriously. "How are you?"

"I'm..." For a second, Nightfang attempted to say "fine", but he couldn't do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he talked in days. He talked about how no one believed he hadn't entered the tournament of his own free will, how Tansy had lied about him in the Daily Warrior, how he couldn't walk down a corridor without being sneered at. And then he talked about Redstone, how he didn't believe him and his jealousy...

"...and now Badgerstripe's just shown me what's coming in the first mission. It'll be dragons. I'll be a goner," he finished desperately.

Padfoot looked at him, eyes full of concern that had not lost the look Alcatraz had given them: that numb haunted look He had let Nightfang talk himself into silence without any interruption, but now he meowed, "We'll deal with the dragons, but we'll get to that in a minute. I haven't got much time here. I've broken into a Twoleg house to use the fireplace, but they could be back at any time. First, did you or did you not put your name in the Trophy of Fire?"

Nightfang hissed, "No!"

"Shh," Padfoot hissed back. "I just had to make sure. Now tell me about that dream of yours. You mentioned Wormtail and Red Helmet, but who was the third cat in the room?"

"I dunno," Nightfang admitted.

Padfoot's brows rose. "You didn't hear a name?"

Nightfang shook his head. "No. Red Helmet was giving him a job. Something important."

"And what was that?"

"He wants...me," Nightfang sighed, knowing how much Red Helmet wanted to kill him. "I don't know why, but he was going to use this cat to get to me. But...it was only a dream, right?"

Padfoot nodded, but he still looked worried. "Yes...it's just a dream. Look, the Demon Cats at the World Trophy and your name rising out of the Trophy of Fire aren't twists of fate! The Forest is not safe anymore."

"What're you saying?" Nightfang asked, feeling his spirits drop a further few nicks. Surely there could be nothing worse than dragons coming here?

"The devils are on the inside," Padfoot rasped. "Look at Coldstar...he was a Demon Cat. You know what Demon Cats are, don't you?"

When Nightfang nodded blankly, Padfoot went on, "He was caught and in Alcatraz with me, but he got released. I bet everything that's why Silverstar wanted an Aura Cat at the Forest this year: to keep an eye on him. Mad-Eye Moody was the one who had caught Coldstar and put him in Alcatraz in the first place."

Nightfang's brain seemed to struggle to absorb this. "He got released? But why?"

"He did a deal with the Government," Padfoot growled bitterly. "He said he atoned for his sins and then named names...he put lots of others into Alcatraz in his place. He's not popular in there, I'll tell you what. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every cat who passes through his school. So watch out for the Mountain guardian too."

"Okay," Nightfang replied slowly. "But...are you saying Coldstar put my name in the Trophy? Because if he did, he's a good actor. He seemed angry and wanted to stop me from competing."

Padfoot meowed, "We know he's a good actor because he convinced the Governor to set him free. Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Warrior, Nightfang-"

"You and the rest of the world."

"-and reading between the lines of that Tansy cat's article last moon, Mad-Eye was attacked the night before he started at the Forest. Yes, I do know she says it was another false alarm," Padfoot added hastily, seeing Nightfang about to speak. "...but I don't think so. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to the Forest. I think someone knew their job would be difficult with him around. And no one's gonna look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. He was the best Aura Cat the Government had ever had."

Nightfang asked, "So...what are you saying? Coldstar's trying to kill me?"

Padfoot hesitated. "I've been nearing some very strange things. The Demon Cats seem to be more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the AirBall World Trophy, right? Someone set off the Dark Mark...and then...did you hear about that Government cat who's gone missing?"

"You mean Wetnose Jorkins?"

"Yep...she disappeared in the Australian outback, and that's where Red Helmet was rumored to be last...and she would've known the Tri-warrior Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

Nightfang nodded. "Yeah, but...it's not very likely she'd walk into him, is it?"

Padfoot stared up at him. "Listen, I knew her. She was at the Forest the same time as me, a few years above your dad, Wolfclaw, and me. And she was a silly mouse-brain. Very curious, yeah, but no brains at all. It's not a good combination. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

"So...Red Helmet could've found out about the tournament?" Nightfang asked. "Is that what you mean? You think Coldstar might be here on his orders?"

"I don't know...I just don't know," Padfoot replied, shaking his head. "He doesn't seem like the type who'd go back to Red Helmet unless he knew he was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that Trophy did it for a reason, and I think the tournament would be a good way to strike like a snake and make it look like an accident."

Nightfang grinned bleakly. "Looks like a good plan from where I'm at. They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff."

His godfather nodded and meowed quickly, "Right...these dragons. There's a way to beat 'em, Nightfang; where there's a will, there's a way. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell; they're strong and too powerfully magical to be bowled over by a single Stunner. You need about half a dozen cats at a time to overcome one."

"Yeah, I know. I just saw," Nightfang replied.

"But you can do it alone," Padfoot told him. "There is a way, and a simple spell's all you need to do it. Just-"

But suddenly, Nightfang raised his tail to silence him, his heart pounding as if it would burst. He could hear pawsteps coming down the twisting staircase behind him.

"Go!" he hissed. "Someone's coming!"

The black tom leapt to his paws, hiding the fire. If someone saw Padfoot in the Forest, they could raise an almighty uproar. The Government would get dragged in, and he (Nightfang) would have to be questioned about his godfather's location.

Nightfang heard a tiny pop in the fire behind him and knew Padfoot had vanished. He watched the bottom of the spiral staircase, his eyes narrowing. Who had decided to go for a stroll at one in the morning and stopped Padfoot from telling him how to get past a dragon? But he relaxed a bit when he saw it was Redstone. The red-pelted tom stopped dead facing Nightfang across the room and looked around.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked drowsily.

"What's it to you?" Nightfang snarled, the rejection still burning in his heart. "What're you doing down here at this time of night?"

Redstone muttered, "I just wondered where you...never mind. I'm going back to sleep."

Nightfang knew that Redstone had no idea what he had walked in on, knew he hadn't done it on purpose, but he didn't care. At this moment now, he hated everything about Redstone, right down to the several inches of fluffy fur in between his paws.

So he hissed loudly, "Just thought you'd do some nosing around, did you?"

"Sorry about that," Redstone growled, his face flushing with anger. "Should've known you didn't want to be troubled. I'll let you continue practicing for your next interview in peace if you want."

At this, Nightfang felt his paws tremble with rage, his fur bristling. Redstone just had no idea what he was going through. So he seized one of the POTTER REALLY STINKS badges off the table in his jaws and flung it, as hard as he could, across the room. It hit Redstone in the middle of the forehead and bounced off.

"There you go," Nightfang spat. "That's something you can wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky. That's what you want, right?"

He stalked across the room and towards the stairs. He expected Redstone to stop him; in fact, he would even have liked him to throw a swipe at him. But Redstone just stood there gawking after him, and Nightfang, having raged upstairs, laid awake in his nest fuming for a long time then and didn't hear him come up to sleep.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: I got another bit of good news. I was finally able to see my ex-girlfriend on Saturday night.**

**Harry: Really? That's great! Where'd you meet her at?**

**AvatarCat12: At a football game. In fact, she invited me, and I took the chance. She was the same as ever: sweet, funny, and beautiful.**

**Harry: (Smiles) Well, it's good you got to see her again, Avatar Cat. It's been around five years, right?**

**AvatarCat12: Yeah...and I hope to see her again before I go back to Alabama. But for now, I'll enjoy myself...and say the review thing. (To the readers) Anyone who's out there is very welcome to read and review any time! Those who do will get their own virtual figurine of whichever dragon in fiction you like. I'd choose Paarthurnax, Alduin, or Deathwing. I do NOT allow flames, but I allow advice and constructive criticism.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	20. The First Mission

**AvatarCat12: Hey, everyone! I just thought I'd upload another chapter of Nightfang Potter. Today, Ron's coming over to see the entire dragon scene. (Ron comes into the office) Are you still blaming yourself for not believing Harry?**

**Ron: Not much...but I still felt like an idiot, so I owe him one. By the way, there's only a week left until Thanksgiving.**

**AvatarCat12: You bet...and I have to help make the turkey. Oh well. At least on that day, we'll all gobble till we wobble! So Ron, would you like to say the disclaimer today?**

**Ron: Sure.**

**Disclaimer: He doesn't own either series. If he did, he'd make a movie or TV series about this here series.**

**Uploading Date: November 16, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The First Mission**_

Nightfang got up on Sunday morning and groomed himself so vaguely that it was a while before he realized he was trying to groom his chest fur instead of his paw. When he finally got groomed correctly, he hurried off to find Fawnwillow, locating her at the LionClan table in the Great Hall, where she was eating breakfast with Leafheart. Feeling too woozy to eat, Nightfang waited until Fawnwillow had eaten her last sausage before bringing her onto the grounds. There, he told her about the dragons and everything Padfoot told him while they took another walk on the seashore.

Though she was alarmed by Padfoot's warnings about Coldstar, Fawnwillow still thought that dragons were the more persistent problem.

"Let's just try and keep you alive until Tuesday evening," she said desperately as they watched the sea otters play in the shallows. "And then we'll worry about Coldstar."

They walked three times around the seashore, trying all the way to think of a simple spell that would pacify a dragon. Nothing at all occurred to them, so they retreated to the library instead. Here, Nightfang pulled down every book he could find on dragons, and both cats got to work, searching through the large pile.

"'Talon-clipping by charms...treating scale-rot...'" the Maine Coon mix snarled. "This book's full of shit; this is for hare-brains who want to keep them healthy. 'Dragons are very difficult to slay, due to the ancient magic that saturates their thick hides, which none but the most powerful spells can penetrate.' But Padfoot said a simple one would do it."

So he threw aside Cats Who Love Reptiles Too Much and meowed, "Let's try some simple spellbooks, then."

He returned to the table with a pile of spellbooks, set them down, and began to flick through each in turn. Fawnwillow then began whispering nonstop at his shoulder.

"Well, there are Switching Spells, but what's the point of Switching it? Unless you swapped its fangs for ducks or something that would make it less dangerous. The trouble is, like that book said, not much is going to hit a dragon's hide. I'd say Transform it, but something that big...you don't have a chance; I doubt even Thistleheart could do it...unless you're supposed to put the spell on yourself? Maybe to get extra powers? But they're not simple spells. We haven't done any of those in class; I only know them because I've been doing O.W.L. practice papers."

Having had enough of this, Nightfang sighed through gritted teeth, "Fawnwillow, will you please shut up for a bit? I'm trying to concentrate."

But all that happened, when she fell silent, was that hiss brain filled with a blank buzzing, which didn't seem to allow room for focus. He stared despairingly down the index of Basic Jinxes for the Hectic and Vexed. Instant scalping...but dragons had no fur...pepper breath...but that would probably just increase a dragon's firepower...horn tongue...

_That'll be great, _he thought sarcastically. _Just giving the dragon an extra weapon._

"Fox-dung, he's back. Why can't he read on his stupid ship?" Fawnwillow growled grumpily as Earthclaw slouched in, cast a surly look over at them, and settled himself in a distant corner with a pile of books. "Come on, we'll go back to the den room. His fan club will be here, twittering like birds and begging for an autograph."

And sure enough, as they left, a gaggle of she-cats tiptoed past them, one of them wearing a German scarf tied around her neck.

**...**

Nightfang could barely sleep that night. When he awoke on Monday morning, for the first time ever, he had decided to flee from the Forest. But as he looked around the Great Hall at breakfast and thought of what leaving the castle would mean, he knew he couldn't do it. It was the only place he had ever been happy...well, he _supposed_ he was happy with his parents too, but he couldn't remember that.

Somehow, the knowledge that he would rather be here and facing a dragon than in Wrangell with Tubby was good to know; it made him feel a tad calmer. He finished his wild boar bacon with difficulty (his throat wasn't working well), and as he and Fawnwillow got up, he saw Oakheart leaving the BadgerClan table.

Oakheart still didn't know about the dragons. He must be the only four guardians who didn't, if Nightfang was right in thinking that Fuzzystar and Coldstar would have told their champions. So there was only one thing to do in a crisis like this.

"See you in the hothouses," Nightfang told Fawnwillow, watching Oakheart leaving the Hall. "Go on, I'll catch you up."

"But the bell's about to ring," the Angora mix mewed. "You'll be late."

"I'll catch up."

So Fawnwillow nodded and raced off towards the hothouses. By the time Nightfang reached the bottom of the marble staircase, Oakheart was already at the top, talking with a pack of sixth-year friends. Nightfang didn't want to talk to Oakheart in front of them; they were some of the cats who had been quoting Tansy's article at him every time he went near them. He followed the BadgerClan cats at a distance and saw that Oakheart was heading toward the Charms hall. This gave Nightfang an idea, an idea to get him on his own so they could talk. Pausing at a distance from them, he lifted up his tail-wand, and took careful aim.

"_Diffindo!"_

Oakheart's bag splits, and paper, quills, and books spilled out of it onto the floor. Several bottles of ink smashed, leaving an inky mess at the paws of the cats. Seeing his friends pad over to help him, Oakheart sighed, "I'll be fine. Tell Shortlegs I'll be coming soon."

This was just what Nightfang was hoping for. He slipped his tail-wand back into his bag, waited until Oakheart's friends had disappeared into their classroom, and hurried up the hall, which was now empty of everyone but the two toms.

"Hey Nightfang," Oakheart purred, picking up a copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration splattered with ink. "My bag just split...it was brand-new and all..."

Nightfang meowed, "Oakheart, the first task is dragons. They've got one for each of us," he added, speaking quickly in case Shortlegs came out of the classroom. "We gotta get past them."

Oakheart stared at him, and Nightfang saw some of the panic he had felt since Saturday night flickering in his gray eyes. "Are you sure?" the golden tabby asked in a hushed voice.

"Very. I've seen them."

"But how'd you find out? We're not supposed to know..."

"Never mind," Nightfang meowed; he knew Badgerstripe would be in trouble if he told the truth. "But I'm not the only one who knows. Swanflight and Earthclaw will know by now; Fuzzystar and Coldstar both saw the dragons too."

Oakheart straightened up, his mouth full of inky quills, paper, and books, his ripped bag dangling off one shoulder. He stared at the black cat, and there was a baffled yet wary look in his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

Nightfang looked at him in disbelief. He was sure Oakheart wouldn't have asked that question if he had seen the dragons himself. The Maine Coon mix wouldn't have let his worst enemy face those monsters unprepared. _Well...maybe Iceheart or Brokenfang,_ he thought.

Out loud, he meowed, "It's just...fair. We all know now; we're on an even footing."

The California Spangled Cat was still looking at him in a suspicious way before he replied, "Thanks. And about the badges? I've told them over and over to stop wearing them."

Nightfang shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

Just then, he heard a familiar clunking noise behind him. He turned around and saw Mad-Eye Moody emerging from a nearby classroom. "Come with me, Potter," he growled. "Diggory, off you go, lad."

Nightfang stared worriedly at the dark gray tom. Had he overheard them talking?

"Sir, I'm supposed to be in Herbology."

"Never mind that, Potter. In my office, please..."

So Nightfang followed him, wondering what was going to happen to him now. What if Mad-Eye wanted to know how he found out about the dragons? Would he go right to Silverstar and tell on Badgerstripe or just turn Nightfang into a weasel? Well, it might be easier to get past a dragon if he was a weasel; he would be smaller, much less easy to see from a height of fifty cat-lengths.

He followed Mad-Eye into his office, not knowing what would happen next. Mad-Eye closed the door behind them and turned to look at Nightfang, his magical eye fixed upon him as well as the normal one. "That was a good thing you just did, Potter," he growled quietly.

Nightfang didn't know what to say. This wasn't the reaction he had expected at all.

"Sit down," Mad-Eye meowed.

Nightfang sat, looking around.

He had visited this office under two of its previous dwellers. In Gloryhound Lockhart's day, the walls were plastered with grinning winking pictures of himself. When Wolfclaw Lupin had lived here, you would often come across a fascinating new Dark creature he had procured for them to study in class. Now, however, the office was full of a number of remarkably odd objects that he supposed Mad-Eye had used in the days when he was an Aura Cat, working for the Government.

On his desk stood what looked like a large glass spinning top; Nightfang saw it was a Sneak-scope, because he owned one himself, though it was smaller than Mad-Eye's. In the corner on a small table stood an object that looked like a squiggly golden television antenna, humming slightly. What appeared to be a mirror hung opposite him on the wall, but it was not reflecting the room. Shadowy figures were moving inside it, none of them in focus.

"Like my Dark Detectors?" Mad-Eye asked, watching Nightfang closely.

"What's that?" Nightfang asked, pointing his muzzle at the squiggly golden antenna.

"Secrecy Sensor. It vibrates when it senses camouflage and lies. It's no use here, however; too much interference. Apprentices keep lying about why they haven't done homework. It's been humming ever since I got here. I had to stop my Sneak-scope because it wouldn't stop whistling. It's extra-sensitive, picks up stuff about a tree-length around. Of course, it could be picking up more than kid stuff," he added in a growl.

Nightfang nodded. "And what's the mirror for?"

Mad-Eye meowed, "That's my Foe-Glass. See them out there, skulking around? It lets me keep an eye on my foes. When I see the whites of their eyes, it means they're right behind me. And that's when I open my trunk." There was a loud moan while he meowed, "I wouldn't even bother to tell you what's in there. You wouldn't believe me if I did!"

He let out a short harsh laugh and pointed to the large trunk under the window. It had seven keyholes in a row. Nightfang was wondering what was in there when mad-Eye's next question brought him sharply back to earth.

"So...I see you've found out about the dragons."

Nightfang hesitated; he had been afraid of this to happen. But he hadn't told Oakheart, and he certainly wasn't going to tell Mad-Eye, that Badgerstripe had already broken the rules.

Mad-Eye laid on his desk and stretched out his wooden leg with a groan. "It's okay. Cheating's a customary part of the Tri-warrior Tournament and always has been."

"I didn't cheat," Nightfang meowed sharply. "It was...an accident."

"I wasn't accusing you, lad," May-Eye rasped, smiling a crooked smile. "I've told Dumbledore from the start, and he can be as noble as he likes, but you can bet Karkaroff and Maxime won't be. They'll have told their guardians everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They'd like to prove he's only a cat like us."

He gave another harsh laugh, and his magical eye swiveled around so fast it made Nightfang feel nauseous just to watch it. He managed to calm down when Mad-Eye's eye stopped as he asked, "So...what're you going to do about your dragon, eh?"

Nightfang was at a loss for words. "Well, I...um...I don't know..."

"Well, I'm not going to tell you," Mad-Eye meowed gruffly. "I don't show partiality. I'm just going to give you some good general advice. And the first bit is...play to your strengths."

"I haven't got any," Nightfang mewed before he could stop himself.

Mad-Eye glared at him. "Excuse me, but you've got strengths if I say you've got them. Your pal Diggory, for example? By your age, he could turn a whistle into a watch and have it sing you the time. Delacour is as much a princess as I am. As for Krum, his head may be filled with dust, but Karkaroff's is not. They'll have a strategy. And you can bet that it will play to Krum's strengths. So come on, Potter, what are you strengths? Think now. What are you best at?"

Nightfang tried to concentrate. What was he best at? "Well, I can play AirBall really good," he muttered dully. "But it's as useful as a dead mouse now."

"That's right," Mad-Eye agreed, staring at him very hard with his magical eye barely moving at all. "Lupin told me you were a damn good flier."

"Yeah, but...I'm not allowed to use wings..."

Mad-Eye replied, "You're allowed to use a tail-wand. My second piece of general advice to use a nice, simple spell that will enable you to get what you need."

Nightfang looked at him blankly. What did he need to help him in the first mission?

"Come on, boy," Mad-Eye hissed quietly. "Put them together. It's not that difficult."

And then, as if he was putting a bone back in place, it clicked. He was best at flying, of course. He needed to get past the dragon somehow in the air. For that, he needed his Thunderbolt, and for his Fire-bolt, he needed...

**...**

"Hey Fawnwillow," Nightfang hissed as he sped into greenhouse three minutes later, uttering a hurried apology to Sproutflower as he passed her. "I need you to help me."

"What'd you think I've been trying to do?" she whispered back, her eyes round with anxiety over the top of the quaking Fluttery Bush she was clipping.

Nightfang replied, "Fawnwillow, I have to learn how to do a Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow at sunhigh."

And so, after class, they practiced. They didn't have any lunch, but they headed for a classroom, where Nightfang tried hard to make many objects fly across the room at him. He was still having problems, for the books and quills kept losing heart halfway across the room and dropping like stones to the floor.

"Concentrate, Nightfang! Try to!"

"What'd you think I've been trying to do?" Nightfang spat angrily. "A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason...okay, try again."

He wanted to skip Divination to keep practicing, but Fawnwillow refused to skip Arithmancy, and there was no point in staying without her. Thus, he had to endure over an hour of Mistbright, who spent half the lesson telling everyone that the position of Mars with relation to Saturn at that moment meant that cats born in July were in danger of sudden violent deaths.

His temper flaring now, Nightfang snarled, "Good...just as long as it's not drawn-out. I don't want to suffer."

Redstone looked for a moment as if he was going to laugh. He certainly caught Nightfang's eye for the first time in days, but the Maine Coon mix was still feeling too resentful towards the ginger tom to care.

He spent the rest of the lesson trying to attract small objects at him under the table with his tail-wand. He managed to make a butterfly zoom right into his paw, though he wasn't sure that was his aptitude at Summoning Charms; perhaps the butterfly was just being stupid.

He forced down some dinner after Divination, then he returned to the empty classroom with Fawnwillow, using the Invisibility Pelt to avoid the mentors. They kept practicing until past moonhigh, when they would be too tired to carry on. They would have stayed longer, but the Joker turned up and, pretending to think that Nightfang wanted things thrown at him, started hurling chairs across the room. So the two cats left in a hurry before the noise attracted Oscar and went back to the LionClan den room, which was now kindly empty.

At two a.m., Nightfang sat near the hearth, surrounded by lots of objects: books, quills, upturned chairs, and Toadfall's bullfrog, Kermit. Only in the last hour had Nightfang really got the hang of the Summoning Charm.

"That's better, Nightfang. It really is," Fawnwillow purred, looking tired but very content.

"Well, now we know what to do next time I can't do a spell," Nightfang replied, throwing a sign dictionary back to her so he could try again. "...threaten me with a dragon...right..." He raised his tail-wand once more and called, _"Accio Book!"_

The heavy book soared out of her jaws and flew across the room, and Nightfang caught it right in the middle of the air. He landed on all four paws on the table and saw Fawnwillow looking up at him with pride in her amber eyes.

"I really think you've got it!" the light brown tabby purred delightedly.

Nightfang shrugged. "Just as long as it works tomorrow. The wings are gonna be much farther away than this stuff. They'll be in the castle, and I'm gonna be out there on the grounds."

Fawnwillow retorted firmly, "That doesn't matter. Just as long as you're concentrating really hard on it, it'll come. Now get some sleep, Nightfang. Looks like you're gonna need it."

**...**

Nightfang had focused so hard on learning the Summoning Charm that evening that some of his blind panic left him. It returned in full measure, however, in the next morning. The atmosphere in the school was one of great stiffness and excitement. Lessons were going to a halt at midday, giving all the cats time to get to the dragons' enclosure...though of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there.

He felt oddly separate from everyone else around him; they were either wishing him good luck or hissing "We'll have tissues ready, Potter" as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so radical that he wondered when he would lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon and start trying to curse everyone in sight. And thinking of failing or dying in front of ViperClan was enough to make him even more nervous.

Time was behaving in a much stranger fashion than ever, rushing past in great leaps, so that one moment he was sitting in his first lesson, History of Magic, and the next, walking into lunch. And then, when the morning rushed past too quickly, Thistleheart came hurrying over to him in the Great Hall. Lots of cats were watching now.

"Potter, the guardians have to come down onto the grounds now," the Oriental Shorthair mix meowed. "You have to get ready for your first mission."

"Okay," Nightfang sighed, getting to his paws.

"Good luck, Nightfang," Fawnwillow whispered. "Don't worry. You'll be fine!"

Nightfang nodded weakly and left the Great Hall with Thistleheart. She didn't seem like herself either; in fact, she looked just as anxious as Fawnwillow. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November lawn, she laid her tail on his shoulder.

"Now, don't panic," she meowed. "Just keep a cool head. We have warriors standing by to run the situation if it gets out of paw. The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you. Are you all right?"

Nightfang found himself mewing, "Yes...I'm fine."

She was leading him towards the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the swamp. But when they approached the clump of trees behind which the field would be visible, Nightfang saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them and screening the dragons from view.

Thistleheart meowed in a rather shaky voice, "You're to go in here with the other guardians and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there; he'll be telling you the...the procedure on how you do the mission. Good luck."

"Thanks," Nightfang replied flatly as she left him at the entrance of the tent. Giving a small sigh, he went inside.

Swanflight was sitting in a corner on a how wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as collected as usual, but rather pale and nervous-looking. Earthclaw looked even brusquer than usual, which Nightfang guessed was his way of showing nerves. Oakheart was pacing up and down, but when he entered, the golden tabby gave him a small smile, which Nightfang returned. But he felt the muscles in his face working rather hard as if they had forgotten how to do it.

"Nightfang! Good-o!" Graytail cheered happily, looking around at him. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

The Siberian mix looked somehow like a slightly overdone cartoon character, standing amid all the nervous guardians. He was wearing his old Baltimore Wasp robes again. Nightfang was about to pad over to him when she heard a voice hiss his name.

"Psst! Nightfang!"

He turned around and saw Fawnwillow poking her head through a small hole in the tent. He padded over to the Angora mix and was amazed to see a worried look in her eyes, a worried look he had never seen before.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay?" she asked him. When he nodded, she went on, her voice shaking, "The key is to concentrate. After that, you just have to..."

"Battle a dragon," Nightfang finished. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Just then, he found himself surrounded by bushy light tabby fur as she threw him into a hug. He felt a little better as he returned the hug, his muzzle buried among the curls that made up her pelt. Then suddenly, a camera flash broke them apart, making them stare nervously at the newcomer.

It was Tansy. The Selkirk Rex cooed with a false cheery tone, "Oh, young love! How...inspiring. If everything goes unlucky today, you two can still make the front page!"

Earthclaw, seeing her, spat, "You have no business here! This tent is for guardians and friends!"

Nightfang stared over at him. This was the first time he had ever heard him speak; it was in a slight German accent.

"No matter. We got what we wanted," Tansy replied as she stalked away.

"Well, now we're all here, time to fill you in!" Graytail purred brightly. "When the..." He spotted Fawnwillow and meowed, "Hello, Miss Granger. What're you doing here?"

"Sorry," she mewed before slinking away.

Graytail turned back to the guardians and meowed, "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag..." He held up a small bag of purple silk and shook it at them. "...from which you will each select a small model of the dragon you will soon face! There are different...varieties, you see. They are the Common Labrador Green, Indian Fireball, Spanish Shot-snout, and..."

Nightfang whispered, "Australian Horntail."

Graytail looked at him in a concerned way. "Pardon?"

"...nothing."

"Okay," the gray tom mewed. He continued. "And I have to tell you something else too...ah, yes...your task is to collect the golden egg!"

Nightfang looked around at the other guardians. Oakheart nodded once, to show that he totally understood Graytail's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked a little sick. Swanflight and Earthclaw hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might just throw up if they opened their mouths; that was certainly how Nightfang felt at the moment.

_But at least they volunteered for this. I didn't._

And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of paws could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing and joking. Nightfang felt as separate from the crowd as if they were a different species of animals. And then (it seemed like a second later to Nightfang) Graytail was opening the neck of the purple silk bag.

"Ladies first," he purred, offering it to Swanflight.

Swanflight put a shaking paw inside the bag and drew out a tiny model of a dragon: a Labrador Green. It had the number two around its neck. And Nightfang knew, by the fact that Swanflight showed no surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he was right: Fuzzystar DID tell her what was coming.

The same held true for Earthclaw. He pulled out the burgundy Indian Fireball ("It's the Indian Fireball...ohh!" Graytail purred), and it had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, but he just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Oakheart stuck his paw into the bag, and out came the blue-gray Spanish Short-Snout, a number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Nightfang placed his paw into the silk bag and pulled out the Australian Horntail with the number four. It stretched its wings out as he looked down at it and bared its tiny fangs at him.

"Well, there you go!" Graytail meowed. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons. Now, I'll have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first. Just go out into the field when you hear a whistle. Now...Nightfang, could I have a quick word? Outside?"

"Er...sure," Nightfang meowed blankly, and he got up and went out of the tent with Graytail.

The tabby-tailed gray tom padded him a short distance away into the trees and turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face. "Feeling all right, Nightfang? Can I get you anything?"

Nightfang shook his head. "No...no thanks."

"Got a plan?" Graytail asked, lowering his voice. "Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them. I mean..." he continued, lowering his voice further, "...you're the underdog here. Anything I can do to help-"

"No!" Nightfang yelped so quickly he knew he had sounded rude. So he backtracked, "Sorry, but...no. I-I know what I'm going to do, but thanks."

Graytail winked at him still. "Nobody would have to know."

Nightfang wondered when he would stop telling cats he was fine. But he mewed, "No, I'm fine. I've got a plan worked out."

A cannon must have exploded while a voice yowled, "At the sound of the cannon...!"

"Great Scott, I've gotta run!" Graytail yelped in alarm as he hurried off.

Nightfang walked back to the tent and saw Oakheart emerging from it, looking sicker than ever. The black tom tried to wish him luck as he walked past, but all that came out of his mouth was a sort of croaky grunt.

So Nightfang went back inside to sit with the other guardians. Seconds later, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Oakheart had entered the field and was now facing the living foil of his model. It was worse than Nightfang could ever have imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed and gasped like a single many-headed individual, as Oakheart did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Earthclaw was still staring at the ground, his eyes narrowed possibly at the thought of fighting a dragon.

Swanflight had now taken to retracing Oakheart's pawsteps around the tent, but the commentary made everything much worse. Horrible pictures formed in Nightfang's mind as he heard: "Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow." "He's taking risks, this one!" and "That was a clever move! It's a shame it didn't work!"

And then, after about fifteen minutes, Nightfang heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing. Oakheart had gotten past the Spanish Short-Snout and captured the golden egg.

"Very good!" Graytail was yowling. "And now the marks from the judges!"

But he didn't shout out the marks. Nightfang supposed the judges (whoever they were) were holding them up and showing them to the crowd.

"One down, three to go!" Graytail yelled as the cannon fired again. "Miss Delacour, if you may please stand forth!"

Swanflight was trembling from head to paw; Nightfang felt more sympathetic towards her than he had done so far as she left the tent with her head held high. He and Earthclaw were now left alone, at opposite sides of the tent and avoiding each other's gaze.

The same process started again. "Oh I'm not sure that was a wise move!" they heard Graytail yowl gleefully. "Oh, nearly! Careful now...blessed StarClan, I thought she had it then!"

Ten minutes later, Nightfang heard the crowd erupt into applause once more. Swanflight must have been successful too in getting past the Labrador Green. A pause, while Swanflight's marks were being shown...more clapping...then, for the third time, the cannon blasted away.

"And here comes Mr. Krum!" Graytail cried. With a small nod, Earthclaw slouched out, leaving Nightfang quite alone.

He felt much more aware of his body than usual, aware of the way his heart pumped fast, his belly clenched, and his tail twitched in fear. However at the same time, he seemed to be outside himself, seeing the walls of the tent and hearing the crowd as if he was watching from far away.

"Very enterprising!" Graytail was yowling, and Nightfang heard the Indian Fireball give off a horrible roaring shriek while the crowd drew its breath. "That's some nerve he's got...and...oh yep, he's got the egg!"

Rounds of applause shattered the cold Alaskan air like breaking glass. Earthclaw was finished, and it would be Nightfang's turn any moment. He stood up, noticing dimly that his legs seemed to be made of nothing but jellyfish stuff. He sat up and waited.

And then he heard the cannon fire as he padded out through the entrance of the tent, the panic rising into a climax inside him. And now he was padding warily past the trees, through a gap and into the field fence.

He saw everything in front of him as if it was a vividly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that were conjured there since he last stood on this spot. And there was the Australian Horntail at the other end of the field, crouched low over her eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil yellow eyes upon him. She was a monstrous scaly black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving big gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was now making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Nightfang didn't know or care right at the moment.

"Your tail-wand, Nightfang!" Fawnwillow cried as the Horntail lashed her tail out towards him. "Use your tail-wand!"

It was time to do what he had to do. To focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his only chance.

He raised his tail-wand in the air and yowled, _"Accio Thunderbolt!"_

Nightfang waited, every fiber of him hoping and praying to StarClan. If it hadn't worked...if it wasn't coming...it would be all for nothing. He seemed to be looking at everything around him through some sort of shimmering transparent barrier, which made the field and the hundreds of faces around him swim strangely.

And then he saw them, speeding through the air at him: his white Thunderbolt wings careering towards him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the field, and stopping in midair near him, waiting for him to fly. The crowd was making even more noise, and Graytail was yowling something, but Nightfang's ears were not working properly; listening wasn't important.

He leapt up and let the straps connect him to his wings before taking off from the ground. And a heartbeat later, something amazing happened. As he soared up and the wind rushed through his fur, as the crowd's faces became mere multi-colored holes below, and the Horntail shrank to the size of a doxen, he realized that he had left not only the ground behind, but also his fear. He was back where he belonged, in his natural element: flying.

_This is just another AirBall match, _he reminded himself. _And that Horntail down there? She's just another opposing team, getting their asses whipped._

Nightfang looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the golden one, gleaming against its cement-colored companions, residing safely between the dragon's front legs. "Okay," he told himself. "Diversionary tactics...let's fly."

He dived, and the Horntail's head followed him. Nightfang knew what she was going to do and pulled out of the dive just in time just as a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been if he had not swerved away. But for now, he didn't care at all; that was no more than dodging a Budger.

"Great StarClan, he can fly!" Graytail yowled as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Nightfang soared higher in a circle, and the Horntail was still following his progress, her head revolving on its long neck. If he kept this up, she would be nicely dizzy, but he found it better not to push it too long, or the dragon would be breathing fire again. Nightfang plunged just as the Horntail opened her mouth, but this time, he was less lucky; he missed the flames, but her tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he veered to the left, one of the long tail spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping the flesh. He could feel it stinging, hear screaming and groans from the crowd, but the cut didn't seem to be deep. Now he zoomed around behind the Horntail, and a possibility occurred to him.

The Horntail didn't seem to want to take off, for she was too protective of her eggs. Though she writhed and twisted, flapping her wings and keeping those yellow eyes on Nightfang, she was afraid to move too far from the nest. But he had to persuade her to do it, or he would never get near them. The trick was to do it carefully and gradually.

He began to fly and swerve about the dragon. He did not get near enough to make her breathe fire to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared...

He flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent, still swaying, just like a snake dancing before its charmer...

Nightfang rose some more, and she let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she wanted to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now. So she shot fire into the air, which he dodged in time. Her jaws opened wide as if she was a shark wanting to catch a tasty bird from the air.

"Come on," Nightfang hissed, swerving enticingly over her. "Come and get it, you slug."

And then she reared, spreading her black leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a large gull, and Nightfang dived. But before he could do that, she snapped free of her chain and lunged for him, making him swerve away in time. So he spun around and flew off over the mentors' stand, where the dragon slammed her tail down on the top of it.

"Well done, dragon!" one of the Weasley twins yowled.

Nightfang, in the meantime, was more busy with the creature trying to fry him alive than what the twins were talking about. He circled around the Forest's many towers, trying to lose the Horntail or get it confused.

_Around LionClan Tower_, he thought as he circled around. _Just around that, and I have to try to get back._

He looked behind him, and there was nothing there. He sighed, relieved of this fact.

_Thwack!_

The dragon had come around from the opposite side, hitting Nightfang hard in the chest with her tail. The Thunderbolt slid off of his back as he slid down the roof of LionClan tower. He sunk his claws into the stone and managed to hold on to a spike above one of the jutting windows before he could slip off and hit the callous rocks. The British Shorthair mix looked through the window, trying to distract himself from the sounds of the dragon clawing its way towards him, as he tried to ignore the pain in his right side.

It was his own window he was holding onto. Before he could think he would never see it again, the spike, only being made of wood, snapped.

Nightfang fell again and tried to hold on to something, anything, to slow his fall. He managed to catch hold of another window, with his right paw this time. He scowled and tried not to let go, not even to relieve his side from the pain. He looked up to see how far away the Horntail was now and hoped she was not near.

Then...he caught sight of his Thunderbolt. His gift from his godfather, and what could save his life today. His back paws braced against the lower ledge, he reached with his left for the wings.

_Crack._

Sadly, the lower ledge gave way beneath his weight. His right foreleg, already weak, seemed to be on fire with the strain of his weight. His claws slipped as he fell, but as he recalled what Daniel knew about cats, he flipped himself over and landed painfully on all four paws. Just as the dragon appeared, he grabbed his wings, put them onto his back, and flew off quickly. The dragon roared and gave chase, but Nightfang ducked right under the bridge to the ground.

Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, she crashed hard into the bridge, and he was speeding to the ground as fast as he could go. He was now at the eggs now unprotected by her claws, ducking his head low and seizing the golden egg in his jaws. And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, soaring over the stands, the heavy egg safely in his jaws by its hinges.

It was as if somebody turned the volume back up; for the first time, he became aware of the noise of the crowd, which was yowling and applauding as loudly as the Canadian supporters did at the AirBall World Trophy.

"Wow!" Graytail yowled. "Will you look at that! Our youngest guardian is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the hopes of the enemies of Mr. Potter!"

Nightfang saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to calm the Horntail (which had come back, all dizzy and such), and, at the entrance to the field, Thistleheart, Mad-Eye, and Badgerstripe all hurrying to meet him. All of them were waving him toward them, their smiles brighter even from this distance. He flew back over the stands, the noise of the crowd pounding his ears, and came in smoothly to land, his heart lighter than it had been in a moon. He had gotten through the first mission, and he had survived!

"That was brilliant, Potter!" Thistleheart cheered as he got off the Thunderbolt. He noticed that her paw shook as she pointed at his shoulder. "You'll need to see Poppyleaf before the judges give out your score. Over there...she's had to mop up Diggory already."

"Yeh did it!" Badgerstripe cried hoarsely. "Yeh did it! And against that ol' Horntail and all! It was awesome! And Clawfoot said that were the worst dragon he handled-"

"Thanks!" Nightfang mewed loudly so that Badgerstripe wouldn't reveal that he had shown him the dragons ahead of time.

Mad-Eye looked very pleased too; his magical eye was swerving around in its socket. "Nice and easy does the trick, Potter," he growled. "Nice and easy."

Thistleheart meowed, "Right then, Potter. Get your wounds healed before the marking."

Dazed with relief, Nightfang padded out of the field, still panting. He looked up from his paws and saw Poppyleaf standing at the mouth of a second tent, looking worried.

"Dragons!" the calico Forest medicine cat hissed in a disgusted tone, pulling Nightfang inside. The tent was divided into cubicles; he could see Oakheart's shadow through the canvas, but he didn't seem to be badly injured. Poppyleaf examined Nightfang's shoulder, muttering furiously. "Last year Dementors, this year dragons?! What will they bring into this school next? You're lucky; this wound is long but not deep. The blood will need to be cleaned up before I heal the wound, though."

She cleaned the cut with a dab of purple liquid that smoked and stung, making Nightfang grunt a bit. But then she poked his shoulder with her paw, and he felt it heal instantly.

"Now sit quietly for a minute, and then you can go and get your score." As he sat, Poppyleaf bustled out of the tent, and he heard her go next door and say, "How does it feel, Diggory?"

Nightfang didn't want to sit still right now; he was too full of adrenaline now. He got up to his paws, wanting to see what was going on outside, but before he reached the mouth of the tent, two cats had come darting inside: Fawnwillow, followed closely by Redstone.

"You were awesome!" Fawnwillow squeaked, embracing him. There were small claw spots on her face where she had clutched it in fear. "You were so amazing! You really were!"

But Nightfang was now looking at Redstone, who was very white and staring back at him as if he was a ghost.

"Nightfang..." the American Shorthair mewed very seriously. "You'd be crazy to put your own name in the Trophy of Fire!"

It was as if the last few weeks had never happened. It was as if Nightfang was meeting Redstone for the first time right after he was made a guardian.

"Realized that now, huh?" Nightfang replied coldly. "Took you long enough."

Redstone looked ashamed. "Yeah...I wasn't the only one who thought you'd done it. Everyone was saying it behind your back."

Nightfang growled sarcastically, "Great. THAT makes me feel better."

"At least I warned you about the dragons," the ginger tom told him.

"What?" Nightfang asked, now confused. "But...Badgerstripe warned me about them."

Redstone shook his head. "No, I did! Don't you remember? I told Fawnwillow to tell you that Sandfur told me that Daisystem told Ashfoot that Badgerstripe wanted to talk with you! Sandfur never actually told me anything, so it was me all along. I was thinking we'd be okay, you know, after you figured that out."

Nightfang stared at him. "Who...who could figure that out? It's weird."

"Yeah...it is, isn't it?" Redstone mewed, shuffling his forepaws. "I suppose I was a bit upset."

Fawnwillow stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Redstone opened his mouth uncertainly, and Nightfang knew he was about to apologize. And suddenly, he found he didn't need to hear it; Redstone talking to him again was enough for him.

"It's fine," he meowed before Redstone got the words out. "Forget it."

"No," Redstone mewed. "I shouldn't have been an idiot. I'm sorry..."

"Forget it," Nightfang repeated. "There's nothing to forgive."

Redstone smiled nervously at him, and Nightfang smiled back. They were friends again after nearly a moon of not speaking with each other.

Fawnwillow suddenly burst into tears, and Nightfang turned to her, feeling confused as he meowed, "There's nothing to cry about."

"Toms!" she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front. Then, before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug and dashed away, now wailing in a mix of joy and irritation.

"Crazy," Redstone muttered, shaking his head. "Come on. They'll be putting up your scores."

Picking up the golden egg and his Thunderbolt, feeling more overjoyed than he did an hour ago, Nightfang ducked out of the tent, Redstone walking by his side and talking fast.

"You were the best, no doubt about it. Oakheart did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on the ground and turned it into a dog. He was trying to make the dragon go after the dog instead of him. Well, it was pretty cool Transfiguration, and it sorta worked, because he did get the egg, but he got burned as well; the dragon changed its mind and decided it would rather eat him than the husky, though he got away. And that Swanflight cat tried this sort of charm, trying to put it into a trance. Well, that kind of worked, since it went all sleepy, but then it snored, and this great jet of flame shot out and set her tail on fire so she had to put it out. And believe it or not, Earthclaw didn't even think of flying! He was probably the best after you, and he hit it with some spell right in the eye! But it went trampling around in pain and crushed half the real eggs, so they took marks off for that; he wasn't supposed to do any damage to them."

Redstone finally drew in a breath as he and Nightfang reached the edge of the field. Now that the Horntail was taken away, Nightfang saw where the five judges were sitting: right at the other end in raised seats draped in gold.

"Marks out of ten from each one," Redstone explained.

Then, as Nightfang watched on, he saw the first judge (Fuzzystar) raise her tail-wand in the air. What looked like a silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.

Redstone purred as the crowd applauded, "Not bad! I suppose she took marks off for your shoulder. But still, it's cool."

Crouchfoot went next and shot a number nine into the air. "Looking good!" Redstone cheered, clapping Nightfang's shoulder.

Next, Silverstar too put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever. And Graytail's score was..._ten_.

"Ten?!" Nightfang yelped in disbelief. "But I got hurt! What's he doing?"

Redstone shrugged. "I don't know, but don't complain!"

And now it was Coldstar who raised his tail-wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his tail-wand too: four.

"What?!" Redstone roared furiously. "Four?! You lousy prejudiced bastard, this ain't fair! You gave Earthclaw ten!"

But Nightfang didn't care; he wouldn't care if Coldstar didn't give him a score. Redstone's indignation on his behalf was worth a hundred points to him. He didn't tell Redstone this, but his heart felt lighter than air as he turned to leave the enclosure. His friend was back by his side, and the Golden Trio was back together...and that was all that matter.

And it wasn't just Redstone or LionClan cats cheering in the crowd. When it came to it, when they had seen what he was facing, most of the school was on his side as well as Oakheart's. He didn't care about the ViperClan cats anymore; he could stand whatever they threw at him now.

"You're tied in first place! You and Krum!" Clawfoot called, hurrying to meet them as they set off back toward the school. "Listen, I gotta go and send Mom an owl. I swore I'd tell her what happened...but StarClan above, that was fantastic! Oh, and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few more minutes. Bagman wants a word in the guardians' tent."

Redstone said he would wait, so Nightfang went back into the tent, which looked different now: friendly and hospitable. He thought back to how he felt while dodging the Horntail's attacks and compared it to the long wait before he walked out to face it. There was no comparison; the wait had been immensely worse, but it was all over.

All the three other guardians all came in together. One side of Oakheart's face was covered in a thick orange paste, which was presumably mending his burn, and cobwebs. He smiled over at Nightfang when he saw him.

"Good job, Nightfang."

"Thanks," Nightfang purred. "You too, Oakheart."

"Well done, all of you!" Graytail cheered, bouncing into the tent and looking as pleased as if he himself got past a dragon. "Now just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second mission, which will take place at 9:30 a.m. on February the twenty-fourth of 2015, but we'll give you something to think about in the meantime! If you look at those golden eggs you're holding, you will see that they open. See the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg, for it will tell you what the second mission is and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then! Enjoy your break!"

So Nightfang left the tent and rejoined Redstone, and they started to walk back around the edge of the forest, talking. Nightfang wanted to hear what the other guardians had done in more detail. Then, as they rounded the trees behind which Nightfang had heard the dragons roar, a familiar pale ginger she-cat leapt out from behind them.

It was Tansy. The Selkirk Rex was wearing an acid-green cape today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her jaws blended perfectly against them. She set them down, purring, "Congrats, Nightfang. Can you give me a quick word? How did you feel facing that dragon? How do you feel now about the fairness of the scoring?"

"One word," Nightfang growled savagely. "Good-bye."

And he padded back to the castle with Redstone to find Fawnwillow.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: I hope you all liked this chapter! And to let you know, about the added dragon chase, I had asked TrisRika if I could borrow some of the scene from her to make it like the movie. She said it was cool as long as I give her credit for it. So I give her all credit for it, and thanks again, TrisRika!**

**Ron: I was amazed at how Harry faced against that dragon. Charlie was telling Mum for weeks about how he did it all. But about that part from the movie...Harry didn't do that.**

**AvatarCat12: I think they wanted to add some extra action to make the movie cooler. And let me tell you: I like the books, but I also like the movies. But anyways, you wanna say the review before we prepare for the next chapter?**

**Ron: Sure. (To the readers) Remember to read and review. Those who do will get Swedish Fish...the virtual kind. We don't let flames in here, but advice and constructive criticism are welcome anytime.**

**Both: See ya next time! And Happy early Thanksgiving!**


	21. Lemur Liberation Team

**AvatarCat12: Well, here we are in another new chapter of Nightfang Potter! Hermione, I think this might be your favorite chapter.**

**Hermione: (Gently swats him with a newspaper) Ha-ha, Avatar Cat. But you're right, actually; this might be my favorite so far.**

**AvatarCat12: Glad to hear you say that. And I've only got one week to go until I go back to Alabama.**

**Hermione: Harry, Ron, and I wish you luck on your plane ride back. And if you don't mind, I'll go ahead and say the disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter are the owners of Harry Potter and Warrior Cats. AvatarCat12 got the lines from .com, but he does not own the website. He changed them and mixed the two series together to entertain all of you.**

**Uploading Date: November 29, 2012**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Lemur Liberation Team**_

The Golden Trio went up to the Owlery that evening to find Sheepinton, so that Nightfang could send Padfoot a letter telling him that he got past his dragon unhurt. Along the way, Nightfang told Redstone everything Padfoot told him about Coldstar. Though shocked at first to hear that the Mountain leader was a Demon Cat, by the time they arrived at the Owlery, Redstone was saying that they should have suspected it all along.

"It all fits," he meowed. "Remember what Iceheart said on the train, about his dad being friends with Coldstar? Now we know _where_ they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Trophy. I'll tell you what: if it _was_ Coldstar who put your name in for the tournament, he's going to be feeling stupid now. It didn't work; I mean, you only got a scratch! Come here, I'll do it."

Sheepinton was so hyper at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around their heads, hooting nonstop. So Redstone snatched the elf owl in the air and held him still while Nightfang attached the letter to his leg.

The ginger tom carried his owl to the window and went on, "There's no way the other missions will be that dangerous. I mean, how could they be? And you know what, Nightfang? I'm sure you'll win this tournament. I'm serious."

Nightfang knew he was only saying this to make up his behavior of the last moon, but he was thankful about it. Fawnwillow, on the other paw, leaned her shoulder against the Owlery wall and frowned at Redstone.

"He's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament," she meowed seriously. "If that was the first mission, I hate to think what's coming next."

"You're a mopey ray of sunshine, aren't you?" Redstone teased playfully, throwing his owl out the window. "I think you and Mistbright should get together sometime."

Sheepinton dropped a little bit before managing to pull himself back up again; the letter attached to his leg was longer and heavier than usual. Nightfang couldn't resist giving Padfoot a blow-by-blow account of exactly how he had swerved, circled, and dodged the Horntail. Not to mention the chase around LionClan tower at that.

They watched Sheepinton disappear into the darkness, and Redstone meowed, "Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Nightfang. The twins should have purloined enough food from the kitchens by now."

**...**

Sure enough, when they entered the LionClan den room, it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and bottles of Pepsi and lattes on every surface. Quicktongue had let off some fireworks so that the air was thick with stars and sparks. Ashfoot, who was good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which showed Nightfang zooming around the Horntail's head with wings, though a few showed Oakheart with his head on fire.

"It's not like I try to blow things up, exactly. It just sorta happens," Sandfur admitted to drawing the fire. "You gotta admit, though; fire is fascinating."

Nightfang helped himself to some food, having almost forgotten what it felt like to be hungry, and sat down with his friends. He couldn't believe how happy he felt; he had Redstone back on his side, he had gotten through the first mission, and he wouldn't have to face the second one for three whole moons.

"We knew you wouldn't die, Nightfang," Cherrynose purred.

"Lose a leg-" Berrytail began.

"Or a tail-"

"Pack it all together-"

"NEVER!" they exclaimed happily.

"Great StarClan, this is heavy," Quicktongue panted as he picked up the egg, which Nightfang left on a table. "Open it, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"

"He's gotta work out the clue on his own," Fawnwillow meowed swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules after all."

"I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too," Nightfang muttered so that only Fawnwillow could hear him. At this, she grinned rather guiltily.

"Yeah, go on, open it!" several cats echoed.

Quicktongue passed him the egg, and Nightfang sank his claws into the groove that ran all the way around it. Before he did, he called, "Who wants me to open it?" They all cheered, so he called louder, "You want me to open it?"

They cheered. So he sunk his claws in and pried it open.

It was hollow and completely empty, but as soon as the egg was opened...the most horrible noise, a loud screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Nightfang had ever heard was the ghost ensemble at Headlesshead Nick's deathday party, who had all played the musical saw. Around him, the other cats were crouching to the floor, their paws over their ears.

"Turn it off!" Berrytail yowled, his paws over his ears.

So Nightfang slammed it shut again.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Redstone rasped, looking at the egg.

"Sounded like a banshee," Sandfur suggested. "Maybe you gotta get past one, fella!"

"It was someone being tortured!" Toadfall squeaked, spilling bread rolls all on the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a pussy; that's illegal," Cherrynose retorted. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the guardians. I thought it sounded like Sandthorn singing. Maybe you gotta attack him while he's in the shower, Nightfang." To the cats, he called, "All right, everyone, back to the party! This is gonna get more uneasy with all the questions going about!"

"Want a cookie, Fawnwillow?" Berrytail asked, offering her one.

But Fawnwillow looked down at it with suspicion. So Berrytail purred, "Don't worry. I haven't done anything to them. It's the cupcakes you gotta watch."

Toadfall, who had just bitten into a cupcake, choked and spat it out.

"Just my little joke, Toadfall," Berrytail chuckled.

So Fawnwillow took a cookie and mewed, "Did you get all this from the kitchens?"

Berrytail nodded and purred, "Guilty as charged." Then he put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a lemur. "'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're really helpful; they can even get me a roast bison if I said I was starving."

"How do you get in there?" Fawnwillow asked in an innocently casual sort of voice.

"Easy," Berrytail replied. "It's hidden door behind a painting of a big bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pineapple, and it give out a giggle and...wait a minute." He stopped and looked suspiciously at the Angora she-cat. "Why'd you ask?"

Fawnwillow shrugged.

"Gonna try and lead the house-lemurs out on strike now?" Cherrynose joined in. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"

Several cats chuckled, but Fawnwillow didn't answer.

Berrytail meowed warningly, "Don't go upsetting them and telling them they gotta take clothes and salaries! You'll put them off their cooking!"

Just then, Toadfall caused a slight distraction by turning into a large cardinal.

"Oops. Sorry, Toadfall!" Berrytail shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot. It WAS the cupcakes we hexed! Sorry!"

Within a minute, however, Toadfall had molted the red cardinal feathers, making it look like he was shedding a winter coat. Once all the feathers had fallen off, the Exotic Shorthair reappeared looking like a tabby again and even joined in laughing.

Berrytail called to the excitable crowd, "Cardinal Cupcakes! Cherrynose and I just invented 'em! And they're seven Sickles each at a bargain!"

It was nearly one a.m. when Nightfang finally went up to the dorm with the other toms. Before he pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut, he set his tiny model of the Australian Horntail on the table next to his bed, where it yawned, curled up into a ball, and closed its eyes a bit like a doxen dog. Nightfang smiled at it and pulled the hangings on his four-poster closed before he did the same as the tiny dragon.

_Badgerstripe DID have a point,_ he thought before he fell asleep. _Dragons really ARE cool._

**...**

The start of December brought wind and the annual winter snow to the Forest. Drafty though the castle always was in leaf-bare, Nightfang was happy of its fires and thick walls any time he went past the Mountain ship in the sea, which was diving in the high winds, its black sails rising in the dark Alaskan skies. He guessed the Oasis carriage was likely to be pretty frosty too.

Badgerstripe, he saw, was keeping Fuzzystar's horses well provided with their preferred drink of malt whiskey. The smoke drifting from the crib in the comer of their corral was enough to make the entire Care of Other Animals class feel dizzy. This was pointless, for they were still tending to the horrible skrewts and needed their wits about them.

"I ain't sure whether they hibernate or not," Badgerstripe told the cold class in the icy pumpkin patch next lesson. "Thought we'd just try and see if they like a nap. We'll just have to settle 'em down in these boxes."

There were now only ten skrewts left; apparently their wish to kill one another had not worn them out. Each skrewt was now approaching the length of a large added. Their thick gray armor; their powerful scuttling legs, their fire-blasting ends, and their stings and suckers made them the nastiest things Nightfang had ever seen. The class looked gloomily at the big boxes that were all brought out, all lined with pillows and cottony blankets.

"We'll just lead 'em in here and put the lids on," Badgerstripe told them. "And THEN we'll see what happens."

But the skrewts, apparently, did not hibernate and did not appreciate being forced into boxes and nailed in. Badgerstripe was soon yelling, "Don't panic, kids! Don't panic!" while the skrewts tore around the pumpkin patch, which was now speckled with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class (Iceheart and his cronies in the lead) had fled into Badgerstripe's hut through the back door and blocked themselves in.

The cats of the Golden Trio, however, were among those who stayed in the pumpkin patch trying to help Badgerstripe. Together, they managed to confine and tie up nine skrewts, but at the cost of numerous burns and cuts on their pelts. Redstone even had his ear torn by one of them. At last, only one skrewt was left.

"Don't frighten 'im!" Badgerstripe called as Nightfang and Redstone used their tail-wands to shoot sparks at the skrewt, which was advancing ominously on them, its sting arched over its back. "Just try and slip the rope 'round his sting so he won't hurt the others!"

"Yeah, we wouldn't want that, now would we?" Redstone snapped as he and Nightfang were backed into the wall of the cabin, holding off the skrewts with their claws this time.

"Well, well...this looks like fun."

Tansy was perched on Badgerstripe's garden fence, looking in at the confusion. She was wearing a thick magenta cape on her back with a furry purple collar today, and her handbag was over her shoulder. Badgerstripe pounced on top of the skrewt that was cornering Nightfang and Redstone and flattened it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkins nearby.

"Who're you?" Badgerstripe asked Tansy as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt's sting and tightened it. Nightfang looked up and felt his pelt bristle; there was no way she was going to slander Badgerstripe too, even if he didn't agree with the skrewts.

Tansy beamed at Badgerstripe. "I am Tansy Skeeter, Daily Warrior reporter."

The big black tom frowned as he got off the skrewt and tugged it over to its fellow skrewts. "Huh. Thought Silverstar said you weren't allowed inside the school anymore."

But Tansy acted as if she hadn't heard what he said. "What are these charming creatures called?" she asked, beaming more widely.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Badgerstripe told her with a grunt.

"Really?" Tansy asked, looking quite interested. "I've never heard of these animals before. But where do they come from?"

Nightfang saw a dull red flush rising up on Badgerstripe's, and his heart sank. Where did his giant friend get the skrewts from? Fawnwillow, who seemed to think along these lines, mewed quickly, "They're very interesting. Right, Nightfang?" she added from the corner of her mouth, stepping on his paw.

"What? Oh yeah (Ow!), they're interesting," Nightfang grunted, wincing.

"Ah, you're here!" Tansy meowed as she looked around at him. "So you like Care of Other Animals? One of your favorite lessons?"

Nightfang nodded, seeing Badgerstripe smile warmly at him. He turned away, however, and gave Fawnwillow a glare for exposing him to this cat.

Tansy nodded. "Lovely. Really lovely. Have you taught here long?" she asked Badgerstripe.

But Nightfang saw her eyes travel over to Ashfoot (who had a nasty cut across his right cheek), Browntuft (whose brown curly fur was singed), and Sandfur (who was licking his burnt paws. And then her eyes went to the log cabin windows, where most of the class stood with their noses pressed against the glass to see if the coast was clear.

"This is only me second year," Badgerstripe replied.

"Lovely," the pale ginger she-cat meowed. "Would you like to give an interview? You know, share some of your experience of other animals? The Warrior does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these...Bang-Ended Shoots."

Badgerstripe meowed eagerly, "They're Blast-Ended Skrewts. And yeah, why not?"

Nightfang had a very bad feeling in his mind about this, but there was no way of breaking it to Badgerstripe without Tansy seeing him. So he had no choice but to stand and watch in silence as the two made arrangements to meet in the Three Wings for a long interview later on.

Then the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson. As Nightfang set off with his friends, Tansy called to him merrily, "Good-bye, Nightfang! Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!"

Nightfang snorted. "Yeah right. She'll twist everything he says," he muttered.

"Just as long as he didn't smuggle those skrewts illegally or anything," Fawnwillow mewed.

They looked at one another and nodded. It was exactly the sort of thing Badgerstripe would do.

"Badgerstripe's been in trouble before, and Silverstar never fired him," Redstone told them both consolingly. "The worst that can happen is that he'll have to get rid of the skrewts. Wait, did I say worst? I meant that's the best that can happen."

They all purred and laughed, and, feeling more cheerful, went off to lunch.

**...**

Nightfang enjoyed double Divination that afternoon. They still did star charts and predictions, yes, but now that he and Redstone were friends again, the whole thing seemed very funny for a second time. Mistbright, who was so pleased with them when they had been forecasting their horrendous deaths, quickly became cross as they snorted over her explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could upset the normal life of a cat.

She stared at Nightfang, she meowed in a mystical whisper that did not hide her irritation, "I would think that some of us might be a little less lighthearted had they seen what I have seen during my crystal gazing last night. As I sat here, absorbed in my sewing, the impulse to consult the orb routed me. I rose, settled before it, and gazed into its crystal clear depths...and what do you think I saw gazing back at me?"

"A praying mantis in eyeglasses?" Redstone muttered to Nightfang, who fought hard to keep his face straight.

"Death, my dears." Daisystem and Browntuft looked upset. So Mistbright nodded imposingly and stared pointedly at Nightfang. "Yes, it comes ever closer, it circles overhead like a buzzard, ever lower over the castle..."

What Nightfang did in return was yawn widely and deliberately.

Finally, class was over, and the two toms finally got back the fresh air of the staircase. Nightfang meowed, "It'd be more impressive if she hadn't done it eighty times before. If I dropped dead every time she tells me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle."

"You'd be an extra-concentrated spirit," Redstone chuckled as they passed the Gory Gaunt going in the opposite direction, his eyes staring sinisterly. "At least we didn't get homework this time. I hope Fawnwillow got lots off Acornspeck. I love not working when she is."

Nightfang rolled his eyes playfully.

But she wasn't at dinner or in the library when they went to look for her later. The only cat in there was Earthclaw Krum; the big dark tabby tom seemed to be reading books while keeping an eye out for intruders. Redstone drifted behind the bookshelves a little, watching him and talking with Nightfang in a whisper if he should ask for an autograph. But then he seemed to realize that six or seven she-cats were lurking in the next row, talking about the same thing, and he lost his interest for the idea.

"Wonder where she went to?" Redstone asked as the two toms went back to LionClan Tower.

"Dunno. Boulder dash."

But the Fat Queen had barely begun to swing forward when the sound of pattering paws behind them told them that Fawnwillow had arrived.

"Hey!" she panted, skidding to a halt beside them. The Fat Queen stared down at her, eyebrows raised as the light tabby she-cat meowed, "You two gotta come with me! I just found the most amazing thing in the Forest!"

She began to nudge Nightfang back along the hall, making him ask, "What's up?"

Fawnwillow panted, "I'll show you when we get there! Come on!"

Nightfang looked over at Redstone, who looked back at him, intrigued. So he meowed, "Okay," starting off back down the hall with Fawnwillow as Redstone tried to keep up.

"Oh that's fine!" the Fat Queen called irritably after them. "Don't worry about me! I'll just hang here, wide open, until you get back if that's what you want!"

"Yeah, thanks!" Redstone shouted over his shoulder.

They padded down through six floors and started down the staircase into the entrance hall. All the while, Nightfang asked, "So where is this 'best' place you want to show us?"

"You'll see! You'll see in a minute!" Fawnwillow panted excitedly. At that, she turned left at the bottom of the staircase and hurried toward the door through which Oakheart had gone the night after the Trophy of Fire had spit up his and Nightfang's names.

The Maine Coon mix had never been through here before. He and Redstone followed their friend down a flight of stone steps, but instead of ending up in a gloomy underground route like the one that led to the dungeons, they found themselves in a broad stone hall, glossily lit with torches and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food. Mice included.

"Wait!" Nightfang panted halfway down the corridor. "Wait a minute..."

"What?" Fawnwillow turned to look at him, eagerness on her face.

Nightfang nodded. "I know what this is about," he meowed, nudging Redstone and flicking his tail to the paining behind Fawnwillow. It showed a huge silver bowl filled to the top with fruit.

Redstone glared at Fawnwillow. "Are you trying to rope us into that sealr shit again?"

"No!" she mewed hastily. "And it's not sealr!"

"So you changed the name?" Redstone retorted, frowning at her. "What are we now, then, the Lemur Liberation Team? I'm not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work. Uh-uh. Hell no, I'm not doing it."

Fawnwillow mewed, "I'm not asking you to! I came down here just now to talk with them, and I found...just come on, you slow slugs! I wanna show you!"

She nudged him in front of the picture of the giant bowl, stretched out a paw, and tickled the huge pineapple. It began to squirm, giggling, and suddenly turned into a large jade door handle. Fawnwillow seized it in her jaws, pulled the door open, and nudged Nightfang hard in the rear with her shoulders, forcing him inside.

He was looking around a huge high-ceiling room, as big as the Great Hall above it, with hills of glittering brass pans and pots layered around the stone walls, and a great fireplace at the other end. He had only one brief sight of this, for something small hurtled at him from the middle of the room, squealing, "Nightfang Potter, sir! Nightfang Potter!"

In the next second, all the wind was knocked out of him as the squealing lemur hit him hard in the neck, hugging him so tightly he thought his throat would break.

"Wait..." he gasped. "B-Bobby?"

"It IS Bobby, sir! It is!" the voice squealed from around his neck. "Bobby has hoped and hoped to see Nightfang Potter, sir, and Nightfang Potter has come to visit him, sir!"

The winged lemur let go and stepped back, smiling up at him, his large orange eyes filled with tears of joy. He looked almost just as Nightfang remembered him; the semi-flat nose, the batty ears, the white fur with brown patches, and the wing membranes under his arms. But his clothes now...were very different.

When Bobby had worked for the Malfoy cats, he had worn the same filthy old pillowcase. Now, he was wearing the strangest mixture of outfits he had ever seen; he had dressed up worse than the cats at the World Trophy. He was wearing a cowboy hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges, a tie patterned with horseshoes, a pair of what looked like jean shorts, and odd socks, which were black, pink, and orange. He was now wearing the same cat sweater Nightfang had given him to free him from Blizzardclaw.

After the hug, Nightfang mewed in amazement, "It's good to see you again, Bobby. But what're you doing here?"

Bobby squealed, "Bobby has come to work at the Forest, sir! Silverstar gave Bobby here and Twinkies jobs, sir!"

"Twinkies?" Nightfang repeated. "She's here too?"

"Yes, sir, yes!" Bobby squealed, leading him into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there.

Nightfang saw that these tables were positioned exactly beneath the four Clan tables above in the Great Hall. Just now, they were clear of food, dinner having finished, but he supposed that an hour ago, they were weighed down with dishes that were then sent up through the ceiling to their bigger counterparts above.

At least a hundred lemurs of every species were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and kneeling as Bobby led Nightfang and his friends behind him. Fawnwillow and Redstone had gone in after them to the kitchen. The lemurs were wearing the same uniform: a towel stamped with the Forest crest and tied like a toga.

Bobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed. "Twinkies, sir!" he said.

Twinkies was sitting on a stool by the fireplace. Unlike the taller Bobby, the mouse lemur had not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and shirt with a similar blue hat, which had holes in it for her ears. However, while Bobby's strange clothes were so clean and well cared for that they looked new, Twinkies was not taking care of hers at all. There were soup stains and steak sauce all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt.

"Hey, Twinkies," Nightfang meowed.

Twinkies' lip quivered as soon as she spotted him. Then suddenly, she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great big brown eyes and splashed down her front, just as they had done at the AirBall World Trophy.

"Poor thing," Fawnwillow cooed sadly. She stepped forth and mewed, "Come on, Twinkies. It's us. Please stop crying."

But Twinkies, instead of listening, just cried harder than ever. Bobby, on the other paw, smiled up at Nightfang and squeaked loudly over the sobs, "Would Nightfang Potter and his friends like a bowl of cream?"

Nightfang nodded. "Sure."

Six lemurs instantly came running up behind him, carrying a large silver tray loaded with a teapot, bowls for the Golden Trio, a milk jug, and a large plate of brownies.

"Good service you all give!" Redstone purred in an impressed voice. Fawnwillow gave him a glare, but the elves all looked delighted; they bowed very low and retreated.

As Bobby handed around the cream and fixed it for them, Nightfang asked, "So how long have you been here?"

"Only a quarter-moon, sir!" the winged lemur chirped happily. "Bobby came to see Silverstar, sir. You see, sir, it is hard for a house-lemur who has been discharged to get a new position, sir. Very hard indeed."

At this, Twinkies wailed even harder, her short nose dripping, though she made no effort to stem the flow. Over her wails, Bobby went on, "Bobby has traveled over Alaska for two years, sir, trying to find work! But Bobby hasn't found work, sir, because he wants paying now!"

The other lemurs, who were listening and watching with interest, all looked away at this as if Bobby had said something offensive. Fawnwillow, on the other paw, meowed, "Really? That's great, Bobby!"

"Thank you, miss!" Bobby thanked her, grinning toothily. "But most cats doesn't want a lemur who wants paying, miss. They says to Bobby 'That's not the point of a lemur' and slam the door in Bobby's face! Bobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and be paid, Nightfang Potter, sir. _Bobby likes being free_!"

The lemurs around them had now started edging away from Bobby as if he just got a bad case of rabies. Twinkies, however, stayed where she was, though there was a sure increase in the volume of her wailing and thrashing about. Bobby went on, "And then, Nightfang Potter, Bobby goes to visit Twinkies and finds out Twinkies was freed too, sir!"

At this, Twinkies flung herself forward off her stool and laid on the stone floor, beating her tiny fists on it and screaming up a storm. Fawnwillow hastily raced over to be beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made a difference. So Bobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Twinkies' screeches.

"And then Bobby had the idea, sir! 'Why doesn't Bobby and Twinkies find work together? We is both lemurs!' Bobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two lemurs?' Twinkies asks Bobby. And Bobby thinks, and soon, it comes to him, sir! The Forest! So Bobby and Twinkies came to see Silverstar, sir, and Silverstar took us on!"

He smiled very brightly, happy tears surging into his eyes again as he went on, "And Silverstar says he will pay Bobby, sir, if Bobby wants paying! And so Bobby is a free lemur now, sir, and Bobby gets a Galleon a quarter-moon and one day off a moon!"

"That's not much!" Fawnwillow meowed indignantly on the floor, over Twinkies' continued screaming and fist-beating.

"Silverstar offered Bobby ten Galleons a quarter-moon and weekends off," Bobby said, giving a little shiver, as if this proposal was frightening. "But Bobby beat him down, miss. Bobby likes freedom, but he isn't wanting _too much _freedom, miss. He likes work better."

Fawnwillow turned to Twinkies and asked her gently and kindly, "So how much does Silverstar pay you, Twinkies?"

If she thought this would cheer her up, she was dead wrong. The mouse lemur finally stopped crying, but when she sat up, she glared up at the tabby she-cat with her big brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious.

"Twinkies is a disgraced lemur, but Twinkies is not yet getting paid!" she squeaked. "Twinkies is not sunk so low as that! Twinkies is properly ashamed of being freed! Twinkies should be ashamed to be called a free lemur!"

"Ashamed?" Fawnwillow asked blankly. "But...no you shouldn't! It's Crouchfoot who should be ashamed of himself, not you! You didn't do anything wrong. He was so horrible to you!"

But at that, Twinkies clapped her hands over her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn't hear, and screeched, "You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good cat, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to fire bad Twinkies!"

"Twinkies is having trouble changing, Nightfang Potter," Bobby squeaked. "Twinkies forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't."

"Can't lemurs speak their minds about their masters?" Nightfang asked.

Bobby suddenly looked serious. "Oh no, sir, no. 'Tis part of the house-lemur's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir, and defends the family's honor. We never speaks ill of them...though Silverstar tells Bobby he does not insist upon this. Silverstar said we is now free to...to..."

He looked suddenly nervous and beckoned Nightfang closer. The British Shorthair mix bent his head forth, and the lemur whispered in a nervous giggle, "He said we is free to call him...a crazy old badger if we likes, sir! But Bobby is not wanting to," he added, talking normally again and shaking his head so that his large ears flapped. "Bobby likes Silverstar very much, sir, and is very proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him."

Nightfang smiled. "But can you say what you like about the Malfoy cats now?"

"Bobby...could," he said uncertainly, a slight fearful look in his big eyes. He squared his small shoulders and said, "Bobby could tell Nightfang Potter that his old masters were...were...bad Dark warrior cats."

He stood for a moment, quivering all over and petrified by his own daring. Then he rushed over to the nearest table and began banging his head on it very hard, squealing loudly, "Bad Bobby! Bad Bobby!"

Quickly, Nightfang grabbed his scruff and pulled him away from the table. Bobby stared back at him, rubbing his head and rasping, "Thank you, Nightfang Potter...thank you, sir..."

"You just need a bit of practice," Nightfang meowed, shrugging.

"Practice!" Twinkies squealed furiously, pointing a furious finger at Bobby. "You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Bobby, the way you talk like that about your masters!"

"They isn't my masters anymore, Twinkies!" Bobby retorted defiantly. "Bobby doesn't care what they think anymore!"

Tears leaked down Twinkies' face as she squeaked, "Oh you is a bad lemur, Bobby! My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without his Twinkies? He is needing me...he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother before me, and my grandmother before her! Oh, what is they saying if they knew Twinkies was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!" And at this, she buried her face in her skirt again and bawled.

"Listen to me, Twinkies," Fawnwillow meowed firmly, laying a gentle paw on her shoulder. "I'm sure Crouchfoot is getting along well without you. We've been seeing him recently..."

"You is seeing my master?" the mouse lemur asked breathlessly, raising her tearstained face up and goggling at her. "You is seeing him here? At the Forest?"

Fawnwillow nodded. "Yeah. He and Graytail Bagman are some of the judges in the Tri-warrior Tournament."

"Mr. Bagman too?" Twinkies squeaked, and to Nightfang's great surprise (and his friends' too, by the shocked looks they had on their faces), she looked angry again. "Mr. Bagman is a bad cat! A very bad cat! My master isn't liking him, not at all!"

"Wait...Graytail is bad?" Nightfang asked, tilting his head to one side.

Twinkies nodded furiously. "Oh yes! My master is telling Twinkies some things! But Twinkies is not saying anything! Twinkies...keeps her master's secrets safe..." She dissolved yet again in tears, and they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, "Poor master, poor master...no Twinkies to help him no more!"

They tried to comfort her, but they couldn't get another sensible word out of Twinkies. So they left her to her crying and finished their cream while Bobby told them happily about his life as a free lemur and his plans for his wages.

"Bobby is going to buy mittens next, Nightfang Potter!" he said happily, holding his hands up.

"Tell you what, Bobby," Redstone meowed, having taken a great liking to the lemur. "I'll give you some maroon mittens my mom's sending me this Christmas. I always get maroon stuff from her. You don't mind maroon, do you?"

Bobby looked overjoyed at this, so the American Shorthair told him, "We can shrink them a bit to fit you, but they'll go well with your cowboy hat."

As they prepared to leave, many of the lemurs pressed in upon them, offering some snacks to take with them. Fawnwillow refused with a pained look at the way the little primates kept bowing, but the toms loaded their pockets with éclair cakes and chocolate.

"Thanks!" Nightfang called to the lemurs, who had all gathered around them to say good night at the door. "See you later, Bobby!"

"Sir..." Bobby asked tentatively. "...can Bobby come visit you sometimes, Nightfang Potter?"

Nightfang smiled. "Of course you can, Bobby. You're our friend."

Bobby smiled at this and waved a brief farewell before going back to the kitchens. Then the Golden Trio left the place behind them and climbed up the steps into the entrance hall.

"You know what?" Redstone meowed once they left. "I've been really impressed with the twins, filching food from the kitchens. It's not that difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!"

"I think this is the best thing that's happened to those lemurs," Fawnwillow added, leading the way up the sandstone staircase. "Bobby came to work here, right? Then the other lemurs will see how happy he is in being free, and it'll dawn on them that they want freedom too!"

Nightfang snorted. "Let's hope they don't look too closely at Twinkies."

Fawnwillow mewed doubtfully, "I'm sure she'll cheer up. Once the shock's worn off and she's got used to the Forest, she'll see how much better she'll feel without Crouchfoot."

Redstone meowed through a mouthful of apple crumb pie, "She seems to love him a lot."

"But she doesn't think much of Graytail, though," Nightfang. "Wonder what Crouchfoot says at home about him?"

"He probably says that he's not a very good Head of Department," Fawnwillow meowed. "I just have to be honest about this, but...he kinda has a point."

"I'd still rather work for him than old Crouchfoot," Redstone meowed. "At least Graytail's got a sense of humor."

Fawnwillow smiled. "Don't let Sandthorn hear you say that."

The ginger tom gulped down a chocolate peanut. "Yeah, well, Sandthorn wants to work for a cat with no sense of humor anyways. He wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced furless in front of him wearing Bobby's cowboy hat."

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: There you go, Hermione. How did you like all the lemurs?**

**Hermione: They're funny little animals. And for Dobby's lemur form, he's based off of Momo from Avatar: The Last AirBender, right?**

**AvatarCat12: Yep. And let's not forget that there are possibly all the lemur species I could remember. Ring-tailed, mouse, black, brown...you name it!**

**Hermione: There must be so much more species we haven't found yet. But anyways, how about we go on with the review thing? (To the readers) Those who read and review will get a virtual plush doll of a winged lemur. Flames will not be allowed on here, but we welcome advice and constructive criticism.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	22. The Unforeseen Mission

**AvatarCat12: Hey, folks! It's Christmas Eve! And right now, Harry, Ron, and Hermione are spending Christmas vacation away from FanFiction. So since it's just the day before Christmas, Katara has come over to help out.**

**Katara: (Comes in and smiles) Thanks, Avatar Cat. You excited for Christmas?**

**AvatarCat12: Yeah. I've got a mission from Santa, and that's to leave a spoonful of sugar on a dish for Rudolph. I won't fail in this mission!**

**Katara: Well, I'm happy you're giving something to Santa and Rudolph at the same time. Anyways, is it okay if I say the disclaimer?**

**AvatarCat12: Go right ahead.**

**Disclaimer: Remember, folks. Avatar Cat does not own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own them respectively. And I got the writing from the Read For Free Online website, but I don't own it.**

**Uploading Date: December 24, 2012 (Christmas Eve)**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Unforeseen Event**_

"Potter! Weasley! What is wrong with you two? Will you pay attention?"

Thistleheart's irritated voice whipped through their thoughts like a vine in Transfiguration class on Thursday, and Nightfang and Redstone both jumped and looked up. They couldn't believe they had missed the giving of homework already.

They had finished their work, and the turkeys they changed into turkey vultures were shut away in a large cage on Thistleheart's desk (Toadfall's turkey vulture still had a warble on its throat). They copied their homework from the blackboard ("Describe the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches"). The bell was due to ring at any moment, and the toms, who had been having a sword fight with a couple of the twin's fake tail-wands at the back of the class, looked up. Redstone was holding a tin parrot, and Nightfang held a rubber mouse.

"Now that Potter and Weasley are kind enough to act their age..." Thistleheart meowed, giving them a glare and making them drop whatever they were doing, "...I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching. It is a traditional part of the Tri-warrior Tournament, having been tradition since it was found, and it is an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth year cats and above...although you may invite a younger cat if you wish. It will be a dance."

Browntuft let out a shrill giggle. Daisystem nudged her in the ribs, her face working furiously as she also fought hard not to giggle. They both looked at Nightfang, and Thistleheart ignored them, which he thought was unfair, as she had just scolded him and Redstone. But all the toms let out groans about a dance while the she-cats looked more excited.

"Dress capes will be worn..." she continued, "...and the ball will start at eight p.m. on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then...the Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to...let our hair down," she went on in a stern voice.

This made Browntuft giggle harder than ever, wither paw over her mouth to stifle the sound. Nightfang now saw what was funny: Thistleheart, with her short fur, looked like she had never let her hair down in any sense.

Thistleheart went on, "Now to dance is to let the body breathe...inside every she-cat, a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight."

"Something's gonna come out of Beavertail, but it's no swan," Redstone muttered to the twins.

"Inside every tom, a lordly lion prepares to prance," Thistleheart meowed. "But that does NOT mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from the cats of the Forest. I will be very displeased if a LionClan cat shames the school in any way. In other words, Lion Gryffindor's Clan has commanded the respect of the warrior cat world for nearly ten centuries. And that means I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, tarnishing that name by behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons."

"Try saying that three tines fast," Berrytail chuckled to Cherrynose. Nightfang could then hear them mutter, "Babbling bumbling band of baboons, babbling bumbling band of baboons, babbling bumbling band of baboons..."

Thistleheart paid no attention to them. Instead, she pointed a paw to Redstone and meowed, "Mr. Weasley, come over here, please." As the ginger tom stepped forth, Thistleheart stood on her hind legs and meowed, "Now raise to your hind legs and wrap a foreleg around my body."

"...what?" Redstone asked in surprise.

"Yes, my body," Thistleheart meowed. "Oscar, play the music."

So Redstone rose to his hind legs and did what she asked of him to do. As Oscar played the music on a phonograph, they began moving around on the floor, showing a dance to the cats who wanted to go to the ball.

"Hey. You won't let him forget this, will you?" Nightfang asked the twins.

"Never," the both replied with impish smiles.

Finally, after the dance was over, the bell rang. There was the usual shuffle of activity as the young cats packed their bags up and swung them onto their shoulders. Nightfang was just following them when he heard Thistleheart's voice call him over.

Assuming this had something to do with his rubber mouse, the black cat proceeded anxiously to the teacher's desk. Thistleheart waited until the rest of the class was gone, and then she meowed, "Potter, the guardians and their partners-"

"What partners?" Nightfang asked.

"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she meowed coldly, looking like he was trying to be funny. "Your dance partners."

Nightfang's belly seemed to shrivel. "_Dance partners_? But I...don't dance."

Thistleheart retorted, "I'm sure you can. That's what I'm telling you. By tradition, the guardians and their partners open the ball."

Nightfang could see himself in a top hat and tails, accompanied by a she-cat in a frilly dress. But there was no way he wanted to go out there and make a fool of himself.

"I'm not dancing," he meowed.

"But it is traditional," Thistleheart told him decisively. "You are a guardian of the Forest, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner for the ball, Potter."

"But I...I don't..."

"You heard me, Potter."

**...**

Nightfang realized that a quarter-moon ago, he would have said finding a dance partner would be easy as pie compared to taking on a dragon. But now that he had done the latter and was facing the prospect of asking a she-cat out to the ball, he thought he would rather have another round with the dragon.

He had never known so many cats to sign up to stay at the Forest for Christmas; he always did because the other choice was usually going back to Wrangell Island, but he had always been very much in the lesser before now. This year, though, every fourth year cat and above seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to be obsessed with the coming ball...or at least the she-cats were, and it was amazing how many of them seemed to be at the Forest; he had never seen that before. She-cats were now giggling and whispering in the corridors, shrieking with laughter as tomcats passed them, and excitedly linking notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night.

"Why do they have to move in packs?" Nightfang hissed to Redstone as a dozen she-cats walked past them, giggling and staring at them. "How can you get one on their own to ask them?"

"Lasso one?" Redstone suggested. "Great StarClan, Nightfang, you can take out a dragon but you can't do the same for a she-cat?"

Nightfang shrugged. "I'd rather take on the dragon again."

Redstone shrugged back. "Okay. Got any idea who you're going to try?"

Nightfang didn't answer. He knew well who he would like to ask out, but working up the nerve was something else. Rainleaf was a year older than he was; she was very attractive, a very good AirBall player, and also very popular.

Redstone seemed to read his mind. "Look, you won't have any trouble with this, buddy. You're a guardian. You've just beaten a dragon. I bet they'll be standing in line to go with you."

In tribute to their recently restored friendship, Redstone had kept his sullenness in his voice at bay. In addition, to Nightfang's amazement, he turned out to be right.

A tortoiseshell third-year BadgerClan she-cat whom Nightfang had never spoken to asked him to go to the ball with her the next day. He was so stunned he said no before he stopped to think over this. The she-cat walked off looking rather upset, so Nightfang had to endure the toms' taunts about her all through History of Warriorism. The next day, two more asked him: a second year Ragdoll cat and (to his horror) a fifth year Maine Coon tabby who looked as if she would beat him up if he refused.

"She WAS nice-looking," Redstone chuckled fairly.

"But unlike me, she's a purebred Maine Coon," Nightfang meowed, still unnerved. "Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with her."

As he said this, Fawnwillow's words about Earthclaw kept coming back to him. "They only like him because he's famous!" The black cat doubted if any of the she-cats who had asked to be his partner so far would want to go to the ball with him if he wasn't a guardian. Then he wondered if this would bother him if Rainleaf would be the one to ask him.

In general, Nightfang had to admit that even with the humiliating vision of opening the ball before him, life had improved ever since he had got through the first task. He wasn't attracting as much spite in the halls anymore, which he suspected had a lot to do with Oakheart; the golden tabby must have told his Clanmates to back off from Nightfang in gratitude for his warning about the dragons. There were fewer _Support Oakheart Diggory! _badges around too. But Iceheart and Pugface, of course, were still reciting the article to him at every opportunity, but they got fewer laughs out of it, for no other cat thought it was funny anymore. And just to comfort Nightfang even more, no story of Badgerstripe had appeared in the Daily Warrior yet.

"She didn't seem very interested in animals, ter tell yeh the truth," Badgerstripe told the Golden Trio as they asked him how his interview went during the last Care of Other Animals lesson of the term. He had given up on direct contact with the skrewts now, and they were now sheltering behind his cabin today, sitting at a trestle table and preparing a selection of food with which to try and tempt the skrewts.

In a low voice, Badgerstripe went on, "Nightfang, she wanted me ter talk about you. I told her we was friends since I went ter fetch yeh from them kittypets. 'Never had to scold him in four years?' she asked me. 'Never played you up in lessons, has he?' I told 'er no, and she didn't seem happy, no sir. It seemed like she wanted me ter say yeh were a brat."

"Of course she did," Nightfang muttered, throwing griffin liver into a big metal bowl and using his claws to cut some more. "She can't keep writing about what a tragic little hero I am 'cause it'll get boring."

"She wants a new angle, Badgerstripe," Redstone meowed wisely as he shelled next eggs. "All you had to do was to say Nightfang was a rabid stray!"

"But he's not!" Badgerstripe replied, looking sincerely stunned.

"She should've interviewed Brokenfang," Nightfang added grimly. "He'd give her dirt on me any day. He'd tell her what he said last time: 'He has been crossing lines ever since he first arrived at this school.'"

His friends laughed, and Badgerstripe grunted, "Said that, did he? Well, yeh might've bent a few rules now and then, but yeh're all right, kid."

"Thanks," Nightfang purred, smiling.

"So are you coming to this ball on Christmas?" Redstone asked the giant black cat.

"Thought I might look in on it," Badgerstripe replied gruffly. "Should be good. You'll be openin' the dancin', won yeh, Nightfang? Who're yeh takin' with yeh?"

"No one yet," Nightfang mewed, feeling his fur grow hot. To his relief, Badgerstripe didn't go on with the subject.

**...**

The last quarter-moon of the semester became gradually lively as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying all over the place, though Nightfang didn't believe much of them. For instance, there was a rumor that Silverstar bought eight hundred barrels of strawberry wine from Madam Roseflower. It was true, however, that he had booked the Bizarre Brothers. Nightfang didn't know who or what they were, never having had access to a warrior cat's wireless network, but he assumed from the wild delight of those who had grown up listening to the WWN (Warrior Wireless Network) that they were a very famous rock band.

Some of the mentors, like Shortlegs, gave up trying to teach them a lot when their minds were obviously elsewhere; he let them play games in his lesson on Wednesday and spent most of it talking to Nightfang about the perfect Summoning Charm he used in the first mission of the Tri-warrior Tournament. Other mentors were not so kind. Nothing would ever deflect Franklin the ghostly tortoise, for example, from plowing on through his notes on monkey rebellions, for he hadn't let his death stand in the way of continuing to teach; a small thing like Christmas would not put him off. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious monkey riots sound as boring as Sandthorn's pot report.

Thistleheart and Mad-Eye also kept them working until the very last second of their classes, and Brokenfang would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Nightfang as a son. Staring nastily around at them all, he told them that he would test them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.

"He's evil," Redstone spat bitterly that night in the LionClan den room. "Springing a test on us on the last day of the semester. Ruining the last bit of the semester with a whole load of studying, if you ask me."

"You're not exactly straining yourself, are you?" Fawnwillow asked, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Redstone was building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack, a more interesting activity than with Twoleg playing cards, because the whole thing could blow up.

Nightfang was reading Flying With The Gators in a chair near the fire. "Come on, Fawnwillow. It's the Christmas season," he meowed lazily.

But Fawnwillow looked over at him too. "I think you should do something useful even if you don't want to learn your antidotes!"

"Like what?" Nightfang asked.

"That egg!"

"I've got till February the twenty-fourth," Nightfang told her.

He had put the golden egg upstairs in his suitcase and hadn't opened it since the celebration party after the first mission. There were still around two moons to go until he needed to know what all the screechy wailing meant, after all.

Fawnwillow didn't look relaxed. "But it might take a long while to figure it out! You'll look a pigeon-brain if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don't!"

"Lay off him; he's earned a break," Redstone retorted, laying the last two cards on top of the castle as it blew up, singeing his ear fur.

"Nice look...that'll go well with your dress cape, that will."

The twins had come in and sat down at the table with the Golden Trio. Redstone looked away as he felt how much damage had been done.

"Can we borrow Sheepinton for a bit?" Cherrynose asked.

Redstone stared at him. "No, he's off delivering a letter...wait, why?"

"Because Cherrynose wants to invite him to the ball," Berrytail meowed sarcastically.

Cherrynose added, "Because we want to send a letter, you frog-brain."

"Who do you two keep writing to?" Redstone asked curiously.

Berrytail glared at him. "You either butt out or I'll burn that for you too. So...do you guys have dates for the ball yet?"

Redstone shook his head.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, or all the good ones will be taken," Berrytail told him.

This made Redstone asked, "So who're you going with?"

With no embarrassment, Berrytail purred, "Shadefeather."

"Huh?" Redstone yelped, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Oh...good point, little brother," Berrytail meowed. The ginger tom turned his head and called across the den room, "Yo! Shadefeather!"

Shadefeather, who was talking with Snowfall near the fire, looked over at him. "What?" she called back.

Berrytail called back while making gestures with his paws, "Wanna go to the ball with me?"

"Well..." Shadefeather gave a judging look. "Okay," she meowed, turned back to Snowfall, and carried on talking with a small smile on her face.

"There you go. Easy as pie," Berrytail purred to the two toms. He got to his paws, yawning, and meowed, "We better use a school owl then, Cherrynose. Let's go."

So the twins left. Redstone stopped feeling his ears and looked across the blazing wreck of his card castle at Nightfang. "We should get a move on. You know...ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with naked mole rats."

Fawnwillow let out a snort of annoyance. "A pair of...what?"

"Well...you know," Redstone meowed, shrugging his shoulders. "I'd rather go by myself than with...Beavertail Midgen."

"Her face has gotten better lately," Fawnwillow argued. "She may be a Persian mix, but she's a really nice cat!"

Redstone argued, "But her nose is uneven."

Fawnwillow got to her paws, her bushy pelt bristling. "Oh I see. So you're going to take the best-looking she-cat who'll have you even if she's completely cruel to you? Is that what you want?"

"Um...yeah?"

"I'm going to bed," Fawnwillow snapped. At this, she swept off toward the she-cats' staircase without another word. Nightfang made a mental note to not anger her like that ever again.

**...**

The staff of the Forest, proving a nonstop wish to impress the visitors from the Oasis and the Mountain, seemed resolute on showing the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up, Nightfang saw that they were the most spectacular he had yet seen inside the school.

Eternal icicles were attached to the bars of the sandstone staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were adorned with everything from bright holly berries to real hooting golden tawny owls, and the suits of armor were bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone went by. It was weird to hear "Deck The Halls" sung by an empty helmet that knew half the words. A few times, Oscar had to extract the Joker from inside the armor, where he hid in and filled in the gaps in the songs with lyrics he invented, which contained all the bad words he knew.

Still, Nightfang hadn't asked Rainleaf out to the ball. He and Redstone were getting edgy now, though he knew Redstone would look less rash than he would without a partner. As for him, he had to start the dancing with the other guardians.

"I know there's Carping Turtleneck," he meowed gloomily on Friday morning, talking about the ghost who haunted the females' toilets on the second floor.

"Look, we gotta buckle down and do it," Redstone replied in a tone that suggested they were planning the storming of a secure fort. "When we get back to the den room tonight, we'll both have partners. Right?"

Nightfang just mewed, "Erm...okay?"

But every time he saw Rainleaf that day (during break, then lunchtime, and once on the way to History of Warriorism), she was always fenced by her friends. _Doesn't she ever go anywhere alone? _Nightfang thought. _Could I see her before she goes into a bathroom? She seems to go there with an escort of four or five she-cats. I mean, seriously? Is it that necessary?_ Yet if he didn't do it soon, she was soon to be asked by somebody else.

He found it hard to concentrate on his Potions test and thus forgot to add the key ingredient (a bezoar), so he got low marks. But he didn't care; he was too busy steeling his courage for what he was going to do. When the bell rang, he grabbed his bag and rushed to the dungeon door.

"I'll meet you at dinner," he told his friends and dashed off upstairs.

That was what he planned: to talk with Rainleaf in private. He hurried off through the packed corridors looking for her, and when he didn't see her there, he decided to try the Owlery. Then, (rather sooner than he expected) he found her and her friends coming out from around a corner.

"Hey Rainleaf?" he choked on his words. "Could I have a word with you?"

The she-cats around her began giggling, which made Nightfang grimace to himself. To him, giggling should be made illegal; it was getting very annoying now. Thankfully, Rainleaf didn't giggle; instead, she nodded and followed him out of the earshot of other cats.

The black cat turned to look at her, and his stomach gave a weird lurch as if he had missed a step going downstairs. He wanted to tell this beautiful animal out to the ball, but he couldn't ask her. He couldn't...but he had to. Rainleaf stood there looking puzzled, watching him with bright blue eyes. The words came out before Nightfang got his tongue around them, but because of anxiety, he could only murmur.

"I just wanted to know if you'd like to come to the dance with me."

Rainleaf tiled her head to the side. "Pardon me? I didn't catch that."

Nightfang blushed, cursing himself for blushing. " I just wanted to know if you'd like to come to the dance with me"

"Oh!" Rainleaf meowed, and then she blushed too. "Oh Nightfang, I'm really sorry. I'd like to...but I already said I'd go with someone else."

She really did look sorry. Nightfang did not want to press into the matter or force her to come with him, so he nodded a bit. It was odd; a moment before, his guts were wriggling around like snakes, but now he didn't seem to have any guts at all.

"Oh...okay."

"I'm really sorry," Rainleaf meowed again.

Nightfang shrugged. "Erm...that's okay."

They stood there looking at each other, and then Rainleaf mewed, "Well...see ya later."

"You too," Nightfang meowed as she walked away. But remembering something, he called after the colorpoint she-cat, "Who're you going with to the ball?"

"Oakheart," she meowed back. "Oakheart Diggory. And watch out for the steps; they're a bit icy lately. See you later."

"Oh...okay."

At this, she walked away. Nightfang felt his insides come back again, but he felt as if they had been filled with lead in their absence.

Forgetting about dinner, he ambled slowly back up to LionClan Tower, Rainleaf's voice echoing in his ears with every step he took. He was starting to quite like Oakheart and prepared to ignore the fact that he had once beaten him at AirBall, very handsome and admired, and nearly every cat's favorite cat. Now he understood that the golden tabby was actually a very pathetic pretty cat whose brain couldn't fill a cat food bowl.

"Dragon diver," he meowed the new password dully to the Fat Queen.

"Yes, indeed!" she trilled, straightening her new glittering hair band as she swung forward to admit him inside.

Entering the den room, Nightfang looked around and saw Redstone sitting ashen-faced in a distant corner. Leafheart was sitting with him, talking to her brother in what seemed to be a low soothing voice. Confused at what was going on, Nightfang padded over to them and meowed, "Yo. What's up?"

Redstone looked at him, blind horror in his face. "Why did I do it?" he moaned wildly. "I don't know what made me do it!"

"What?" Nightfang asked.

"He, um...just asked Swanflight Delacour to go to the ball with him," Leafheart told him, looking as if she was fighting back a smile. Despite this, she kept patting Redstone's shoulder kindly.

Nightfang looked back at his friend. "What?" he repeated.

"I don't know what made me do it!" Redstone gasped again. "What was I thinking? There were cats all around us...I've gone mad...everyone watching! And...you know I like the way they walk! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall...she was talking to Oakheart...and it sort of came over me...and I asked her!"

He moaned and hid his face behind his paws. He kept talking, though the words were barely clear, "She looked at me like I was a worm or something. Didn't even answer. And then...I just came to my senses and scrammed."

"Actually, she yowled at him about it," Ashfoot meowed. "It wasn't a pretty sight."

"She's part lynx," Nightfang told him. "You were right, Redstone; her grandmother was a lynx. And it wasn't your fault. I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Oakheart and got a blast of it...but she was wasting her time. He's going with Rainleaf."

Redstone looked up. Seeing this, Nightfang sighed. "I asked her to go with me to the ball just now, and she told me."

Leafheart stopped smiling.

"This is bad," Redstone sighed, lifting his paws away from his face. "We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone...well, except Toadfall. And you'll never believe who he asked to go with him! Fawnwillow!"

Nightfang, completely distracted by this startling news, squeaked, "What?!"

The American Shorthair laughed. "Yeah, I know! He told me after Potions and said she's always been nice to him, helping him out with work and stuff...but she told him she was already going with someone else. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Toadfall to the dance...I mean, no she-cat has a crush on him at the moment!"

His sister glared at him. "Shut up! It's not funny!"

Just then, Fawnwillow leapt in through the portrait hole. "Hey guys! Why weren't you at dinner?" she asked, coming over to join them.

"Because (will you shut the hell up, you two?) because they've both just been turned down by she-cats they asked to the ball!" Leafheart meowed.

That shut the toms up.

"Thanks, Leafheart," Redstone growled sourly. "Now I'm REALLY depressed."

"All the pretty ones taken?" Fawnwillow asked loftily. "Beavertail's starting to look quite pretty now, is she? I'm sure you'll find someone who'll have you."

But Redstone stared at the light tabby as if he just saw her in a whole new light. Then he rasped, "Hey Fawnwillow. You ARE a she-cat."

Fawnwillow rolled her eyes. "Glad to hear that, Redstone. Got anything else obvious you wanna point out?"

"Well...you can come with one of us!"

"...no," Fawnwillow shook her head. "No I can't."

Redstone meowed, "Aw, come on. We need partners, and we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any. It's one thing for a tom to show up alone. For a she-cat, it's sad."

Fawnwillow sighed while blushing and replied, "I can't come with you because I'm already going with someone else."

"No, you're not!" Redstone snapped. "You just said that to say no to Toadfall!"

"Oh, did I?" Fawnwillow hissed, her amber eyes shining dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a female!"

Redstone stared at her. Then he grinned again and meowed, "Okay, okay, we know you're a she-cat. That'll do? Will you come now?"

Fawnwillow growled angrily, "I've already told you! I'm going with...you know what? Forget it. I'm gonna go."

And she stormed off toward the she-cats' dorms again.

"She's lying," Redstone meowed flatly as he watched her leave.

"Of course she's not," Leafheart retorted quietly.

Redstone faced her. "Really? Who is it then?"

Leafheart meowed, "I'm not telling you. It's none of your business; it's HER business."

"Right," her brother sighed, looking very annoyed. "Leafheart, this is getting stupid. Can't you go with Nightfang and I can-"

"I can't," Leafheart rasped as she blushed hard. She looked fatigued as she sighed, "I'm going with...Toadfall. He asked me when Fawnwillow refused, and I thought...well...I'm not going to be able to go otherwise; I'm not in fourth year...I'm just gonna go get dinner," she finished. So she got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed.

Redstone goggled at Nightfang. "What's eating them?" he demanded.

But Nightfang just saw Daisystem and Browntuft come in through the picture hole. The time had come for dire action. As soon as they padded by to meow "Hey Nightfang!", Nightfang decided to go and make his move.

"Wait here," he meowed to Redstone. He leapt up from his seat, walked over to Daisystem, and asked, "Daisystem? Will you go to the dance with me?"

The Siamese she-cat went into a fit of giggles, and Nightfang waited for her to finish, resisting the urge to twitch his tail. Finally, blushing hard, she mewed, "Okay. I'll go with you."

Nightfang sighed in relief. "Thanks. Browntuft, would you like to go with Redstone?"

"Actually, I'm going with Sandfur," the brown she-cat replied as both females giggled again.

"Can't you think of anyone who'd go with him?" he asked them, lowering his voice so that his friend wouldn't hear.

"What about Fawnwillow?" Daisystem asked.

"She's going with someone else."

Browntuft looked astonished. "Ooooh...do tell! Who is it?" she asked eagerly.

Nightfang shrugged. "I have no idea. So what about Redstone?"

At this, Daisystem tilted her head to the side. "Well...I suppose my sister Roseclaw might. You know...she's a RavenClan cat. I can go ask her if you like."

"Yeah, that'll be great," the British Shorthair mix told her gratefully. "Will you let me know if she says yes?"

And he went back over to Redstone, believing that this ball was going to be a lot more trouble than usual. That, he was hoping very much that Roseclaw's face was pretty for his friend.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat12: I'm glad this chapter's done with.**

**Katara: And I'm glad Christmas is almost here! What are you gonna get for Christmas?**

**AvatarCat12: I hope to get the Madagascar 3 DVD pack with the afro wig. Also Pokémon Black 2 and WWE 13 for the Wii. What about you, Katara?**

**Katara: I have certain things in mind...like some mistletoe. But anyways, let's say the review thing. (To the readers) Make sure you read and review, everyone! We don't allow flames, but we allow advice and constructive criticism. As long as it's not harsh.**

**Both: See ya next time! And Merry almost Christmas!**


	23. The Yule Dance

**AvatarCat13: Hey there, everyone! I hope those of you in the South are ready for Mardi Gras! I know I am since I too live in the South.**

**Harry: I'm excited about it too. But I have a question. How come you don't upload your stories often?**

**AvatarCat13: I often procrastinate. I often goof off by playing World Of Warcraft, read books, or hang out with the dogs. But don't worry; I try my best to upload whenever I can.**

**Harry: I hear you. Well anyways, if it okay if I say the disclaimer? (AvatarCat13 nods) Okay, thanks.**

**Disclaimer: This is a new year, but here's the old disclaimer. AvatarCat13 will NEVER own my series or Warrior Cats; J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own them respectively. And you all know where he got the text online...and I don't own it either.**

**Uploading Date: January 17, 2013**

**Both: Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Yule Dance**_

Despite the homework the fourth years got for the holidays, Nightfang did not want to work when the semester ended and spent his time until Christmas enjoying himself as fully as possible with everyone else. The den room was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk a tad too, as its residents were being much noisier than usual. It was fine with him as long as it wasn't getting destructive.

The twins had success with the Cardinal Cupcakes, and for the first few days of the holidays, cats kept shedding feather all over the place. Before long, all the LionClan cats had learned to treat food anybody offered them with extreme caution, in case it was a Cardinal Cupcake in disguise, and Cherrynose told Nightfang that he and Berrytail were now working on creating a new something. Nightfang told himself to never accept even a Skittle from them ever again; he hadn't forgotten Tubby and the Big-Tongue Bonbons.

Snow was falling upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Oasis carriage looked like a big frosted pumpkin next to Badgerstripe's iced hut while the Mountain ship's windows were now shiny with ice, the rigging white with frost. The lemurs down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with rich warming beef stew and chicken noodle soup, and only Swanflight always found a lot of things in the Forest to complain about.

"It is too 'eavy, all zis Forest food," they heard her mewing grouchily as they left the Great Hall behind her one evening. Redstone was skulking behind Nightfang, keen not to be spotted by her "I will not be able to fit into my dress cape!"

"Oh, we'd hate to let that happen," Fawnwillow snapped as Swanflight went out into the entrance hall. "She's so arrogant, isn't she?"

"So anyways...who ARE you going to the ball with?" Redstone asked.

He kept asking her this, hoping to shock her into a reply by asking it when she least expected it. However, Fawnwillow just frowned at the ginger tom and meowed, "Uh-uh. I'm not telling you. You're just gonna make fun of me."

"You must be joking, Weasley!" Iceheart jeered suddenly from behind them, making them turn around. "You're not telling me someone's asked that filthy thing to the ball? Who would want to go out with that buck-toothed kittyblood?"

Nightfang could not believe Iceheart said that, so he and Redstone began to unsheathe their claws. But before they could pounce, Fawnwillow called loudly to somebody over Iceheart's shoulder, "Good evening, Mr. Moody!"

The British Shorthair's sneer turned into fear as he jumped back, looking wildly around for Mad-Eye. But there he was, finishing off some of his chicken noodle soup at the mentors' table. The dark gray tom looked up a bit to nod before going back to eating.

"Edgy little ferret, aren't you?" Fawnwillow teased Iceheart mockingly. Taking one look at his shocked face, the Golden Trio went up the sandstone staircase, laughing vigorously.

But then, Redstone looked at her sideways, frowning. "Hey Fawnwillow...your fangs..."

"What about them?"

"Well, they're different...I've noticed just now..."

"Yep. You expect me to keep those beaver teeth Iceheart gave me?"

Redstone shook his head. "No, I mean...they're different to how they were before he put that hex on you. They're all...straight and...and normal like a cat."

Fawnwillow suddenly smiled playfully, and Nightfang saw it too. It was a very different smile from the one he remembered. "Well...when I went up to Poppyleaf to shrink them, she held up a mirror and told me to stop when they were back to how they normally were," she meowed. With a wink and a brighter smile, she went on, "And I just...let her carry on a bit. Mom and Dad won't be happy since I've tried to convince them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with braces. They're dentists' cats; they don't think teeth and magic mix really...hey, look! Sheepinton's back!"

They turned around. The tiny elf owl was chirping madly on the top of the icicle-laden rails, a scroll tied to his leg. Cats passing him were pointing and laughing, and a group of third-year she-cats paused to mew, "Aww, look at the weeny little owl! Isn't he cuuute?"

"You little feather-filled idiot!" Redstone hissed, hurrying up the stairs and catching his owl in his jaws. "You bring letters to the addressee, not hang around to show off!"

Sheepinton just hooted happily, his head protruding from his owner's mouth. The young she-cats looked very shocked, but Redstone gave them a sharp "Skedaddle!", and they left, looking very dismayed. "Here...take it," he added, pulling Padfoot's reply off of Sheepinton's leg.

So Nightfang put it in his bag, and the Golden Trio hurried back to their den room to read it.

Everyone in the den room was too busy in letting off more holiday steam to spot what anyone else was up to. The three cats sat apart from everyone else by a dark window that slowly filled with snow, and Nightfang read the letter:

_Nightfang,_

_Great job on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in the Trophy Of Fire shouldn't be comfortable right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis Curse, since a dragon's eyes are its weakest point..._

"Hey, Earthclaw did just that!" Fawnwillow whispered.

_...but your way was better, I'm impressed...and I'm proud of you._

_Don't get content, though. You've only done one mission; whoever put you in for the tournament has more opportunity if they're trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open...mainly when the cat we discussed is around...and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble._

_Keep in touch, Nightfang. I still want to hear about anything unusual._

_From, Padfoot_

"He sounds like Mad-Eye," Nightfang meowed quietly, tucking the letter away again in his bag. "'Constant vigilance!' You'd think I'd be walking around with my eyes shut, banging against the walls, right?"

"But he's right, you know," Fawnwillow told him. "You still got two missions to do. Why don't you take a look at the egg and start working out what it means?"

"He's got all the time in the world," Redstone retorted. "Hey Nightfang? You wanna play a game of chess?"

Nightfang shrugged before seeing the look on Fawnwillow's face. "Yeah. How am I supposed to concentrate with all this noise going on? I won't even be able to hear the egg over the talking."

The Angora mix just sighed and sat down to watch their chess match. Now it culminated in an exciting checkmate of Redstone's, involving a couple of uncontrollably brave pawns and a very powerful bishop. It would just be two moons before he could do the second mission, so he could use this time to enjoy himself.

**...**

Something landing on his nest made Nightfang wake up early on Christmas Day. Wondering what had disturbed his sleep, he opened his eyes and saw something with very large orange eyes staring back at him in the darkness, so close they were almost nose to nose. He gave a yowl and scrambled away so fast that he almost fell out of his nest.

"Bobby!" he panted, heaving to his paws. "Don't...do that!"

"Bobby apologizes, sir!" the flying lemur squeaked anxiously, jumping back with his hands behind his back. "Bobby is only wanting to wish Nightfang Potter a Merry Christmas and bring him a present, Sir! Nightfang Potter DID say Bobby could come see him sometimes, sir!"

Nightfang was still breathing faster than usual as his heart rate went back to normal, but he could not stay angry at Bobby. "It's fine, Bobby, it's fine. Just...just poke me or something next time, all right? Don't bend over me like that."

The black cat pulled back the curtains around his four-poster and looked around. His yowl had awoken the other toms in the room (Redstone, Ashfoot, Sandfur, and Toadfall). All four of them were staring through the gaps in their own hangings, sleepy-eyed and rooster-tailed.

**(AvatarCat13: That's what you call when the hair at the back of your head stick up. Kinda like a rooster's tail feathers.)**

"Someone attacking, Nightfang?" Sandfur asked dozily.

"No, it's Bobby," Nightfang muttered, rolling onto his back. "Go back to sleep."

"Nah...we got presents!" Sandfur purred, spotting the large pile at the foot of his nest.

The other toms decided to open their presents now that they were awake. Nightfang looked back at Bobby, who stood nervously next to the nest and still looking worried that he had upset him. There was even a Christmas tree ornament tied to the brim of his cowboy hat.

"Can Bobby give Nightfang Potter his present now?" he squeaked hesitantly.

Nightfang nodded. "Of course you can. Er...I've got something for you too."

But it was a lie; he hadn't bought anything for Bobby, but he opened his suitcase and pulled out a particularly rolled-up gray scarf. It was his old, graying, and moth-eaten scarf that once was his Uncle Bristle's. The reason it was rolled up was because Nightfang used it to cushion his Sneak-Scope for over a year. He pulled out the Sneak-Scope and handed the scarf to Bobby.

"Here you go. Sorry I didn't wrap it..."

But Bobby looked happy. "Scarves are Bobby's favorite clothes, sir!" he squeaked, ripping off his purple one and pulling on Uncle Bristle's scarf. "I has seven now, sir...but sir..." he added, his eyes widening as he pulled it up to it highest extent. "They has made a mistake in the shop, Nightfang Potter. They is giving you two the same!"

"Aw, how come you didn't see that?" Redstone purred, smiling from his nest, which was strewn with wrapping paper. "Tell you what...here you go." He threw Bobby a burgundy scarf he had just unwrapped, and the hand-knitted mittens Hollywhisker sent. "Take these, and you can mix them up properly. And here's your cat sweater; it can fit on a lemur."

"Sir is very kind!" Bobby squeaked joyfully, his eyes brimming with tears again as he bowed deeply to Redstone. "Bobby knew sir must be a great warrior, for he is Nightfang Potter's best friend! But Bobby did not know he was also so generous of spirit, so noble, so gallant..."

Redstone rubbed the back of his head with his paw in modesty. "It's only a scarf," he mewed, but he still looked thankful.

He then opened Nightfang's present, a Florida Gators hat, and jammed it onto his head, where it clashed with his head fur. Then Bobby turned around and turned back to give Nightfang a small package, which turned out to be...another scarf.

"Bobby is making them himself, sir!" Bobby said happily. "He is buying the wool out of his own wages, sir!"

One side of the scarf was bright red and had a pattern of eagle's wings upon it. The other side was green with a pattern of Pinches flying in the air.

"It's...it's really...I like it. Thanks," Nightfang meowed, putting it on.

This caused Bobby's eyes to leak with happiness again as he squealed, "You is most welcome, Nightfang Potter! Bobby must go now, sir! We is already making Christmas dinner down in the kitchens! Have a very Happy Christmas!" At this, he hurried out of the dorm, waving farewell to Redstone and the other toms as he passed.

Nightfang's other gifts were more fitting than Bobby's odd scarf...well, except for the Dursleys', for they gave him only a pebble; Nightfang guessed they also remembered the Bonbons. Fawnwillow got him a book called AirBall Teams of North America, Redstone got him a bloated bag of Skunk Bombs, Padfoot got him a handy army knife with some attachments to unlock any lock and untie any knot, and Badgerstripe got him a big box of candies including all his favorites. There was also Hollywhisker's usual package, but this time, there was a new green cat sweater with a picture of a dragon on it; Clawfoot must have told her all about the Horntail, and he got a large quantity of homemade apple crumb pies.

The Golden Trio met up in the den room, and they went down to breakfast together. They spent most of the morning in LionClan Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents, then they returned to the Great Hall for a superb lunch, which included a hundred turkeys, Christmas cookies, and large piles of Wizarding Crackers.

They went out onto the Alaskan-cold grounds at sunhigh. The snow was untouched except for the deep canals made by the Mountain and Oasis cats on their way up to the castle. Fawnwillow watched the snowball fight between the toms instead of joining in, and, when it was five p.m., said she was going back upstairs to get ready for the ball.

"What, you need three hours?" Redstone called after her, looking at her skeptically and paying for his break in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by Cherrynose, hit him hard on the side of the face. He even tried to ask her again who she was going with, but she just waved her tail to them and disappeared up the steps into the castle.

The ball included a feast, so at seven p.m., when it got hard to aim properly, the others left their snowball fight and trooped back to the den room. The Fat Queen was sitting in her frame with her friend Lakefern from downstairs, both of them drunk and empty boxes of chocolates littering the bottom of the picture.

"Dagon driver, that's the one!" she giggled when they gave her the password, and she swung forth to let them inside.

The toms put on their dress capes up in their dorm, all of them very awkward, but none as much as Redstone, who surveyed himself in the corner mirror with repugnance. There was no getting around the fact that his cape looked more like a dress than anything else. In an attempt to make them look manlier, he used a Cutting Charm on the ruff and cuffs. At least he was now lace-free, yet he hadn't done a very neat job, and the edges still looked drearily unraveled as the toms set off downstairs.

"How come you two got the best-looking females in the year?" Ashfoot muttered.

"It's all thanks to animal attraction," Redstone replied gloomily, scratching at the collar.

Nightfang pulled the collar away, muttering, "Leave it alone. It's okay."

Redstone still looked gloomy, but he pulled his paw away. To Nightfang, he muttered from the corner of his mouth, "Poor cat. I bet she's in her room crying her eyes out."

"Who?"

"Fawnwillow. Come on, why'd you think she wouldn't tell us who she's going with?"

Nightfang shrugged. "Maybe she thought we'd make fun of her if she told us."

Redstone stared back at her. "Because nobody asked her. I would've taken her to the Ball myself if she hadn't been acting like a high horse."

The den room looked strange, full of cats wearing exotic colors instead of just orange, black, white, and all the others. Daisystem was waiting for Nightfang at the foot of the stairs. The Siamese she-cat looked very nice-looking indeed, in a dress cape of shocking pink and gold bracelets shining at her paws. Nightfang was relieved to see that she wasn't giggling this time.

"Hey boys," she purred.

"You...uh...look nice," he meowed awkwardly.

"Thanks," she meowed. To Redstone, she added, "Roseclaw's going to meet you down in the entrance hall."

"Right," Redstone meowed, looking around. "Where's Fawnwillow at?"

Daisystem shrugged. "I have no idea. But anyways, should we go down now?"

"Yeah," Nightfang replied, wishing he could stay in the den room. Not too far away, Berrytail winked at Nightfang as he passed him on the way out of the portrait hole.

The entrance hall was packed with students too, all waiting for eight p.m., when the doors to the Great Hall would open. Those cats who were meeting partners from different Clans were edging through the crowd trying to find one another. Daisystem found her twin sister Roseclaw and led her over to Nightfang and Redstone.

Roseclaw gave them a greeting meow, and she was looking just as nice-looking as her sister in a bright turquoise cape. She didn't look too eager about having Redstone as a partner, though; her dark blue eyes lingered on the threadbare neck as she looked him up and down.

"Don't you look nice?" Roseclaw sounded as if she was trying to be polite.

"Hey," Redstone muttered, not looking at her. But then he stared around at the crowd, and Nightfang saw his eyes widen and heard him mewl "Oh no..."

He crouched slightly to hide behind Nightfang, because Swanflight was passing by, looking gorgeous in a cape of silver satin, and escorted by the RavenClan AirBall captain, Hawkflight Davies (a tabby shorthair). When they padded away, Redstone stood on his hind legs and stared over the heads of the crowd, still searching for Fawnwillow.

A group of ViperClan cats stalked up the steps from their dungeon den room. Iceheart was in the lead, wearing a black velvet cape with a high collar, which made him look like a priest. The ugly Pugface with a pale pink frilly cape was pressing against the black-&-silver tabby's side. His two cronies were both wearing green, looking like mossy boulders. Neither of them, Nightfang was happy to see, had managed to find a partner.

The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Mountain cats entered with their leader at the lead. Earthclaw was at the front of the party, convoyed by a beautiful golden tabby she-cat Nightfang didn't know. Over their heads, he saw an area of lawn in front of the castle that was transformed into a grotto full of fairy lights. They were actually fireflies sitting in the rose bushes that were conjured there, fluttering over the statues of Santa Claus and his reindeer. Plus Rudolph.

"There you are, Potter," Thistleheart meowed. "Are you ready?"

"For what?"

Thistleheart looked back at him. "To lead the dance. Usually, the three guardians...or four, in this case...lead the dance. Surely I told you this before?" As he shook his head, she meowed, "Oh. Well now you do." Then she turned and called to the four cats, "Guardians over here, please!"

Daisystem realigned her bracelets as she and Nightfang meowed to Redstone and Roseclaw "See ya" and padded forward, the babbling crowd parting to let them come through. Thistleheart, who was wearing a red plaid cape and had arranged a wreath of thistles around her head, told them to wait while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall when the rest of the cats had sat down. Swanflight and Hawkflight posted themselves near the doors; Hawkflight looked so stunned by his good fortune in having her for a date that he couldn't take his eyes off her. Oakheart and Rainleaf were close to Nightfang too, but he looked away so he wouldn't talk to them. His eyes fell on the beautiful golden she-cat next to Earthclaw, making his jaw drop.

_F-Fawnwillow?_

But she didn't look like herself at all. She had done something with her pelt; it was now sleek, golden, and shiny instead of bushy and light brown and groomed perfectly. She was wearing a cape made of a periwinkle-blue material with a red necklace, and she was holding herself in a different way somehow...or maybe it was due to the lack of books she usually held on her back. She was also smiling (shyly), but the reduction in the size of her fangs was more visible than ever; Nightfang didn't know how he hadn't spotted it before.

"Hey!" she greeted Nightfang, flashing a gorgeous smile at him and Daisystem.

Daisystem gazed at her in awe as the Angora mix left. "Is that Fawnwillow? She looks...so beautiful!"

"Yeah," Nightfang murmured, looking after her. "She sure does."

Roseclaw was looking up as she and Redstone entered, mewing, "Is that...Fawnwillow?"

Redstone quickly looked away. "No...it can't be..."

These cats were gazing at Fawnwillow in unflattering disbelief, and they weren't the only ones either. When the doors to the Great Hall opened, Earthclaw's fan club from the library stalked past, giving her leers of loathing. Pugface gawked at her as she walked by with Iceheart, and even they didn't seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Thistleheart told the guardians and their partners to get in line in pairs and follow her. They did so, and every cat in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were now sitting.

The walls of the Hall were covered in sparkling silver frost, lots of wreaths of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The four Clan tables had disappeared; instead, there were about a hundred smaller lantern-lit ones, each seating around twelve cats.

Nightfang concentrated on not tripping over his large paws. Daisystem seemed to be enjoying herself, for she was smiling around at everybody. But she was steering Nightfang so forcefully that he felt like a poodle at a dog show she was putting through its paces. He saw Redstone and Padma as he neared the top table. The American Shorthair was watching Fawnwillow pass by with narrowed blue eyes, and Roseclaw was looking sulky.

Silverstar smiled happily as the guardians approached the judges' table, but Coldstar wore an expression like Redstone's as he watched Earthclaw and Fawnwillow draw nearer. Graytail was wearing a cape of bright purple with large yellow stars, clapping as enthusiastically as any of the younger cats, and Fuzzystar had put on a flowing gown of lavender silk and was applauding them politely. But Crouchfoot was not there now; instead, the fifth seat at the table was occupied by Sandthorn.

When the guardians and their partners reached the table, Sandthorn sat down in the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Nightfang. The black cat took the hint and sat down next to him, who was wearing a new navy-blue dress cape and a face of such haughtiness that Nightfang thought he should be charged for it.

"I've been promoted," Sandthorn meowed right away, and from his tone, he might have been announcing his election as supreme president of the world. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."

"Why didn't he come here tonight?" Nightfang asked, not wanting to be lectured on pots all through dinner.

"I'm afraid that Mr. Crouch isn't well, not at all. Hasn't been feeling right ever since the World Trophy. Hardly surprising, what with all the work. He's not as young as he once was...though still brilliant, the mind remains as great as ever. But the World Trophy was a big disaster for the whole Government, and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge shock with the waywardness of his lemur Winky or whatever she's called. He dismissed her instantly later, but...as I now say...he is getting on but needs looking after, and I think he's found a drop in his home comforts since she left. And then we had the tournament to arrange and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with along with that revolting Tansy cat buzzing around. No sir, he's having a well-earned quiet Christmas. I'm happy he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take his place."

Nightfang wanted to ask if Crouchfoot stopped calling Sandthorn "Weatherly" yet, but he kept his mouth shut.

There was no food yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus laid in front of each of them. Nightfang looked around his uncertainly; there were entrées of worldly foods, but there were no waiters. Silverstar, however, looked carefully down at his own menu and then meowed very clearly to his plate, "Porterhouse steaks!"

And lo and behold, porterhouse steaks appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too. Nightfang looked up at Fawnwillow to see how she felt about this new and complicated method of dining; surely it meant plenty of extra work for the lemurs? But for once, the golden-furred Angora didn't seem to be thinking about her club. She was so deep in talk with Earthclaw that she hardly seemed to notice what she was eating. Plus, he was talking so passionately that he seemed to have had her in a trance.

"Ve have a castle also, not as big nor comfortable as this, I am thinking," he was telling her. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for special purposes. But ve have grounds larger than these...though in the harsh leaf-bare in Germany, ve have little daylight, so ve do not enjoy them. But ve fly every day in greenleaf, over the lakes and the mountains..."

"Now, now, Earthclaw!" Coldstar meowed with a laugh that didn't match his cold eyes. "Don't give away anything else now or your charming friend here will know where to find us!"

Silverstar turned to him and smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. "Coldstar, with all this secrecy, one would almost think you didn't want visitors in your territory."

The other silver cat grinned at him, displaying his yellow teeth to their fullest extent. "Well, we _are_ protective of our private areas, are we not? Do we not protectively guard the halls of learning that are entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we Mountain cats know our school's secrets and have the right to protect them?"

"Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all our secrets," Silverstar purred kindly. "This morning, for example, I took a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a charmingly balanced room I have never seen before, containing a superb group of litter boxes. When I went back to explore, the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it sometime. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty a.m...or it may only appear at the quarter moon...or when the seeker has a full bladder."

Nightfang snorted into his plate of mashed potatoes. Sandthorn frowned at this, but the Maine Coon mix could have sworn Silverstar just gave him a very small wink, which he returned.

Meanwhile, Swanflight was criticizing the decorations of the Forest to Hawkflight. She looked around at the sparkling walls and meowed scornfully, "Zis is nothing. At ze Palace of ze Oasis, we have ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Christmas. Zey do not melt, for zey are like huge silver statues, glittering brightly. And ze food is simply wonderful. We have choirs of nightingales to serenade us as we eat. We have none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and if a demon ever entered ze Oasis, he would be exorcised like zat," she finished, slapping her forepaw onto the table impatiently.

Nightfang rolled his eyes, but Hawkflight was watching her talk with a very dazed look on his face, missing his mouth with his fork. The former had the impression that the tabby was too busy staring at her to understand a word she was saying.

"You're right," he meowed quickly, slapping his own paw down on the table like her "Like that. Yeah, I get it."

Looking away, Nightfang looked around the Great Hall. Badgerstripe sat at one of the other staff tables, back in his horrible hairy brown cat sweater and gazing up at the top table. Nightfang saw him give a small wave, and looking around, saw Fuzzystar return it, her opals glittering in the candlelight. Nightfang saw the small fangs that appeared from the big black cat's mouth again, but he paid no attention to that. Badgerstripe appeared to be so captivated by Fuzzystar that he accidentally and unknowingly sank his claws into Shortlegs' paw, who gave a small grunt of pain and quickly pulled it away.

Fawnwillow, in the meantime, was teaching Earthclaw to say her name properly, for he kept calling her "Fawn-willy." Now she was meowing, "That's close, but here's how it's pronounced. Fawn...will...low."

"Fawny-will."

"Close enough." At this, she caught Nightfang's eye and smiled as she winked.

When all the food was eaten, Silverstar got to his paws and asked the cats to do the same. Then, with a flick of his tail, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he fabricated a raised platform into existence along the right wall. Then a set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Bizarre Brothers now moved up onto the stage to a wildly fervent round of applause; they had shaggy fur and dressed in black clothes that made them look Goth They picked up their instruments, and Nightfang, who was watching them and almost forgot what was coming, just realized that the lanterns on the other tables went out, and the other guardians and their partners were standing up.

"Come on!" Daisystem hissed from the corner of her mouth. "We're supposed to dance. And remember to stand on your hind legs and wrap your forelegs around my shoulders."

Nightfang almost tripped over his paws as he stood up. The Bizarre Brothers struck up a slow mournful tune, and the British Shorthair mix padded onto the brightly lit dance floor, carefully avoiding eye contact (though he saw Ashfoot and Sandfur waving at him and snorting). And in the next moment, Daisystem made him get to his hind legs, placed a forepaw on her shoulder, and held the other tightly under hers.

It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, revolving slowly on the spot while Daisystem steered. He kept his green eyes fixed over the heads of the watching cats, and many of them soon came onto the dance floor, so that the guardians were no longer the focus. Toadfall and Leafheart were dancing nearby (he could see Leafheart wincing often as Toadfall accidentally stepped on her paws) and Silverstar was waltzing with Fuzzystar. He was so smaller than her that the tip of his ears barely tickled her chin; however, she moved gracefully for a cat her size. Mad-Eye was doing a clumsy two-step with Windwhisker, who was nervously trying her best to avoid his wooden paw.

"Nice scarf, Potter," Mad-Eye growled as he passed, his magical green eye staring through the cape Nightfang wore.

"Thanks," Nightfang purred. "A lemur friend of mine made it for me. He's a flying lemur."

Then as they watched Mad-Eye clunk away, Daisystem whispered, "He's so creepy! That eye shouldn't be allowed!"

Nightfang heard the final quavering note from the bagpipe and sighed relief; dancing could be so tiring. The Bizarre Brothers stopped playing, applause filled the hall once more, and Nightfang let go of Daisystem right away. All the while, he heard rock music blaring from out of nowhere.

_Runnin' like a hairy troll_

_Learnin' to rock and roll_

_Spinnin' 'round like a crazy elf_

_Dancin' by himself_

_Boogie down like a unicorn_

_And no stoppin' till the break of dawn_

_Put your hands up in the air_

_Like an ogre who just don't care_

"How about we go sit down?"

"Oh...bit this is a really good one!" Daisystem meowed as the Bizarre Brothers struck up a new chorus for _Doing The Hippogriff_, which was much faster.

"No, you go ahead if you'd like. I don't like it," Nightfang lied and led her away from the dance floor. They went past Berrytail and Shadefeather, who were dancing so animatedly that the cats around them backed off in fear of injury, and finally arrived at the table where Redstone and Roseclaw were sitting.

"Yo," Nightfang greeted Redstone, sitting down and opening a hot latte bottle. "What's up?"

Redstone didn't answer. He was glaring over at Fawnwillow and Earthclaw, who were dancing nearby. Roseclaw was sitting with her back turned to him, her tail flicking in time to the music. Every now and then, she threw a resentful look at the ginger tom, who was completely ignoring her. Daisystem sat down on Nightfang's other side and within minutes was asked to dance by a white tom from the Oasis.

"You don't mind if I go dance with him, do you?" Daisystem asked

"Huh?" Nightfang asked, now watching Rainleaf and Oakheart dance.

"Never mind," she snapped. To the white tom, she meowed, "Legs...ears...I'm yours."

And at this, she stalked off with him.

Finally, Fawnwillow came over and sat down in Daisystem's empty chair. She was panting from all the dancing, yet she looked just as lively as an exploring kit.

"Hi," Nightfang meowed. But Redstone didn't say anything.

"Hey," Fawnwillow panted, panting with part of her tongue sticking out like a dog. "It's hot in the Great Hall, isn't it? Earthclaw's away to get some drinks. You wanna join us?"

Redstone gave her a withering look. "No way. We wanna NOT join you and _Earthy_."

Fawnwillow gave him a surprised look. "What's got your tail in a twist?" she asked.

"I won't tell you if you don't know," the ginger tom growled scathingly.

Fawnwillow and Nightfang (the latter shrugging) shared looks before Fawnwillow asked, "So what...?"

"He's from the Mountain!" Redstone spat. "He's competing against Nightfang and the Forest! And you...you're..." He was apparently casting around for words strong enough to describe this supposed crime. "...socializing with the enemy!"

The golden tabby's jaw dropped a bit, and Nightfang saw that this was not going to be good.

"Don't be stupid!" she meowed after a moment. "The enemy! Who was the one who got all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dorm right now as we speak?"

But Redstone chose to ignore this as he hissed, "I suppose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"

Fawnwillow blushed more brightly. "Yeah, he did. So what?"

"What happened? Trying to get him to join sealr?"

"No, I wasn't! And it's S.E.A.L.R., not sealr!" she retorted. "If you really want to know, he...said he's been coming to the library every day to talk with me, but he couldn't pluck up the courage!" She had said this very quickly and blushed so deeply that her cheeks were now the same color as Daisystem's dress cape.

Redstone snorted nastily. "Yeah, well...that's his story."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It's obvious," Redstone snapped, staring back at her. "He's Coldstar's apprentice! He knows who you hang with. He's just trying to get closer to Nightfang, get inside information on him...or get near enough to curse him!"

Fawnwillow looked as if he had smacked her across the face. When she spoke, her voice shook as she rasped, "For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Nightfang."

Redstone changed tactics swiftly. "Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been working together during those cozy little library sessions..."

"Now wait just a StarClan-damn moment!" Fawnwillow suddenly snapped, glaring him directly in the eyes. "How DARE you say that! I'd never help him work out that egg! I want Nightfang to win the tournament, and he knows that!"

"You've got a funny way of showing it," the ginger tom sneered.

Fawnwillow hissed, "Don't you get it?! This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign cats and making friends with them!"

Redstone hissed back, "No it's not! This tournament's about winning!"

Cats were starting to stare at them, so Nightfang meowed from the corner of his mouth, "Relax, okay? I don't have a problem with Fawnwillow coming to the ball with Earthclaw."

But Redstone ignored him too as he spat at Fawnwillow, "Hey, I have an idea? Why don't you go and find _Earthy_?"

"Don't call him that!" At this yowl, Fawnwillow jumped to her paws and stormed off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. Redstone watched her go with a mixture of anger and approval on his face.

"Are we going to dance together?" Roseclaw asked him.

"No," Redstone muttered, still glaring after Fawnwillow.

"Fine." And she got up and went to join Daisystem and the Oasis tom, who conjured up one of his friends to join them so fast that Nightfang swore he had zoomed him there quickly by a Summoning Charm.

"Vere is Fawny-will?" Earthclaw had just arrived at their table, two latte bottles tucked into a red bandana under his cape.

Redstone looked stubbornly at him. "I have no idea."

Earthclaw looked surly again. "Vell, if you see her, tell her I haff drinks," he meowed as he slouched off.

"Made friends with Earthclaw Krum, have you?"

Sandthorn had bustled over, looking very arrogant. "Excellent! That's the whole point, you know! Intercontinental warrior cooperation!"

To Nightfang's annoyance, the curly-furred tom now sat where Roseclaw sat. The top table was now empty; Silverstar was dancing with Sproutflower, Graytail was dancing with Thistleheart, Fuzzystar and Badgerstripe were making a wide path on the dance floor as they waltzed ardently through the crowd, and Coldstar was missing. When the next song ended, everybody gave a second round of applause, and Nightfang saw Graytail press his muzzle to Thistleheart's paw and make his way back through the crowd while the twins approached him.

"What in heaven's name are they doing, annoying senior Government cats?" Sandthorn hissed, watching them suspiciously. "Those two have no respect for authority..."

Graytail shook off the twins off quickly, however, and once he spotted Nightfang, he waved and came over to their table. Once he got there, Sandthorn meowed right away while glaring at where the twins left, "I hope my brothers weren't a bother to you, Mr. Bagman."

"What? Oh, not at all! They're fine!" the gray tom purred. "No, they were just telling me about their fake tail-wands. I'm wondering if I could advise them on the marketing. I promised to keep in touch with them in a couple of contacts of mine at Bonkers Joke Shop."

But Sandthorn didn't look happy about this at all. Nightfang was prepared to bet his next dinner that he would tell Hollywhisker about this once he got home. It seemed that the twins' plans had grown even more ambitious lately, as if they were hoping to sell to the public. Graytail had just opened his mouth to ask Nightfang about something when Sandthorn diverted him.

"How do you feel the tournament's going, Mr. Bagman?" he asked. "Our department's quite satisfied right now." With a glance at Nightfang, he added, "The hitch with the Trophy of Fire was unfortunate, but it seems to have gone very smoothly since, don't you think?"

Graytail nodded cheerfully. "Oh yes, it's all been enormous fun. How's old Crouchfoot doing? It's a shame he couldn't come tonight."

"Oh I'm sure Mr. Crouch will be active soon," Sandthorn meowed notably. "But for now, I'm willing to take up the slack. Of course, it's not all attending balls, you know. I've dealt with all sorts of things that have happened in his nonattendance. Did you know Rajah Bashir was caught rustling a batch of flying carpets into America? And then we've tried to convince the Swiss to sign the Worldwide Veto on Dueling. I've got a meeting with their Head of Warrior Teamwork after New Year's..."

Before Nightfang could fall asleep, Redstone muttered, "Let's go for a walk...and get away from all this talk."

So, pretending they wanted more drinks, the toms left the table, edged around the dance floor, and slipped into the entrance hall. The front doors stood open, and the fluttering firefly lights in the rose garden twinkled as they went down the front steps, where they were surrounded by lots of bushes, winding ornamental paths, and large statues. Nightfang heard splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, cats were sitting on carved benches. He and Redstone padded along one of the winding paths through the bushes, but they had gone only a short way when they heard a nastily familiar voice.

"...don't see what there is to worry about, Coldstar."

"You cannot pretend this isn't happening, Brokenfang!" Coldstar's voice sounded anxious and hushed, as if he was keen not to be eavesdropped. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for moons now. I am becoming seriously concerned about this, I can't deny it!"

"Then flee," Brokenfang hissed. "Flee like the cowardly rat you are. I will make your excuses while you are gone. I, however, shall stay in the Forest."

The two toms came around the corner, sniffing the air. Then Brokenfang flicked his tail-wand out and blasted rosebushes apart, his expression irascible. Squeals erupted from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them, darting away.

"Ten points from RavenClan and BadgerClan, Fawcett and Stebbins!" Brokenfang snarled as a she-cat ran past him, a tom rushing after her. When they came into view, Nightfang saw that Coldstar looked slightly discomposed to see them standing there. His tail was twitching a bit nervously, and he was shuffling his forepaws around.

Noticing them, Brokenfang spat, "And what are you two doing?"

"We're just taking a walk," Redstone told him curtly.

"Then keep walking!" the dark tabby growled, brushing past them, his long tail billowing out behind him. Coldstar hurried away after him, and the younger cats continued down the path.

Once they padded down the path, Redstone asked, "What's gotten Coldstar so worried like a mouse?"

"And since when have they been on first-name terms?" Nightfang added slowly.

They had reached a large stone caribou now, over which they could see the sparkling jets of a tall fountain. The shadowy outlines of two huge cats were visible on a stone bench, watching the water in the moonlight. And then...Nightfang heard Badgerstripe begin talking.

"The moment I saw yeh, I knew," he was meowing in an oddly hoarse voice.

They froze. This didn't sound like a scene they should walk in on...Nightfang looked around, back up the path, and saw Swanflight and Hawkflight standing half-hidden in a nearby bush. He nudged Redstone and jerked his head toward them, meaning that they could sneak off without being noticed (they looked very busy), but Redstone, blue eyes widening in horror at the sight of Swanflight, shook his head vigorously, and pulled Nightfang even deeper into the shadows behind the caribou.

"What did you know?" Fuzzystar purred, lust in her low voice.

Nightfang didn't want to listen. He knew Badgerstripe would hate to be eavesdropped in a state like this...if it was possible; he would have put his paws over his ears and hummed loudly, but that wasn't really an option. Instead, he tried to watch a cockroach crawling along the stone reindeer's back, but the roach wasn't interesting enough to block out the next words.

"I jus' knew...you were like me..." Badgerstripe murmured. "Was it yer mother or yer father?"

"I...I don't know what you mean..."

"It was me mama," Badgerstripe sighed quietly. "She was one o' the last ones in America...even though they were in South America in that ice age. 'Course, I can't remember her too well...she left when I was three. She wasn't really the maternal sort. Well...it's not in their natures to be too caring, is it? Dunno what happened to her...might be dead fer all I know..."

Fuzzystar didn't say anything. Nightfang took his eyes off the roach and looked over the top of the caribou's antlers, listening. He had never heard Badgerstripe talk about his kithood before.

Badgerstripe went on, "Me dad was sad when she went. Smallish Tonkinese cat, he was. By the time I was six, I could lift 'im up and put 'im on top o' the kitchen counters if he annoyed me. Used ter make him laugh..." His deep voice broke, and Fuzzystar was listening, motionless and apparently staring at the silvery fountain. "Dad raised me...but he died...just after I started school. Sorta had ter make me own way in this big ol' world after that. Silverstar was a real big help. Very kind ter me, he was. Great cat, Silverstar." Then the big black cat pulled out a large spotted silk tissue and blew his nose into it heavily.

"So...anyway...enough 'bout me. What about you? Which side you got it on?"

But Fuzzystar suddenly got to her paws and meowed with a voice colder than the leaf-bare weather, "It is chilly. I think I will go inside now."

Badgerstripe meowed, "Eh? Wait, don't go yet! I've...never met another 'un before!"

"Anuzzer what?" Fuzzystar asked icily.

Nightfang wanted to come out and tell Badgerstripe that it was best not to answer. He stood there in the shadows gritting his teeth, hoping against hope he wouldn't. But it was too late.

Then... "Another saber-tooth cat, o' course!"

"'Ow dare you!" Fuzzystar roared, her voice exploding through the peaceful night air like an elk; behind him. Nightfang heard Swanflight and Hawkflight fall out of their bush as Fuzzystar yowled on, "I have never been more insulted in my life! 'Alf saber-tooth? I have...big bones!"

So she stalked away, and swarms of fireflies rose into the air as she passed, angrily pushing aside bushes. Badgerstripe was still sitting on the bench, staring after her, but it was too dark to see his face. Then, after a minute, he leapt down from the bench and strode away, not back to the castle, but out into the dark grounds in the direction of his hut.

"C'mon. Let's go," Nightfang mewed quietly to Redstone. But his friend didn't move, making Nightfang look at him and ask, "What's up?"

Redstone looked around at Nightfang, his expression serious. "Did you know?" he whispered. "About Badgerstripe being part saber-tooth cat?"

Nightfang shrugged. "No. So what?"

He knew immediately, from the incredulous look Redstone gave him, that he once again revealed his lack of knowledge of the warrior world. Brought up by kittypets, there were many things that warrior cats took for granted that were surprises to him, but these surprises were now fewer with each successive year. Now, though, he could tell that most warrior cats would not have said "So what?" upon discovering that one of their friends had a saber-tooth cat for a mother.

"I'll explain inside," Redstone muttered quietly. "C'mon."

When they looked up, Swanflight and Hawkflight had disappeared, probably into more private bushes. The two toms returned to the Great Hall, where the Patil Siamese cats were now sitting at a distant table with a whole crowd of Oasis toms and Fawnwillow was dancing with Earthclaw again. Upon arriving, the two toms sat down at a table away from the dance floor.

"So...what's the problem with saber-tooth cats?" Nightfang asked. "Don't tell me they've survived the Ice Age like mammoths."

"Well, they're...they're..." Redstone struggled for the right words. "...they're not good cats," he finished lamely.

Nightfang snorted. "Who cares? Badgerstripe's our friend! There's nothing wrong with him!"

Redstone nodded. "I know there isn't, but...no wonder he keeps it quiet. I always thought he got in the way of a bad Growth Charm when he was a kit or something. Didn't like to mention it..."

"Does it matter if his mother was a saber-tooth cat?" Nightfang hissed.

"Well...no one who knows him will care since they know he's not dangerous," Redstone replied. But...saber-tooth cats are vicious animals. It's like Badgerstripe said; it's in their natures. They're cats like us, but...they just like killing, everyone knows that. They've even been known to be very notorious man-eaters. There aren't any left in Alaska now, though."

"What happened?"

Redstone explained, "The ones that survived the Ice Age were dying out anyway, and then lots got themselves killed by Aura Cats. There're supposed to be saber-tooth cats abroad, though. They usually lived in open prairies and savannas, but they hide out in mountains mostly."

Nightfang gave another snort, watching Fuzzystar sit along at the judges' table and looking very somber. "I don't know who Fuzzystar thinks she's kidding. Hell, if Badgerstripe's got saber-tooth blood in her, she's definitely got some too. Big bones, huh? Well, one thing that's got bigger bones than her is a T. Rex."

They spent the rest of the ball talking about saber-tooth cats in their corner, not wanting to dance. Nightfang looked away and tried not to watch Rainleaf and Oakheart too much; it gave him a strong desire to bite something in the face. He even tried hard not to unsheathe his claws when he saw them nuzzle from the corner of his eye.

When the Bizarre Brothers finished their final song ("Magic Works") at moonhigh, everyone gave them a last loud cheer and started to pad into the entrance hall. Many cats were happy and wishing that the ball could have gone on longer, but Nightfang was happy to be going to bed. To him, the evening wasn't much fun.

In the entrance hall, he and Redstone saw Fawnwillow saying good-night to Earthclaw before he went back to the ship where his Clanmates were staying at. She gave Redstone a very icy look and swept past him up the staircase without speaking. Nightfang and Redstone followed her, but just when they were halfway up the staircase, Nightfang heard someone calling him.

"Nightfang!" Oakheart was padding over to him up the stairs, Rainleaf waiting for him in the entrance hall.

"Yeah?" Nightfang mewed coldly.

Oakheart looked like he didn't want to say whatever it was in front of Redstone, who shrugged while looking irritable and continued to climb the stairs. Then when the American Shorthair left, he lowered his voice and meowed, "Listen...I realized I never thanked you for telling me about the dragons."

Nightfang shrugged. "Eh...forget about it. I'm sure you'd do the same thing for me."

"Exactly," Oakheart meowed. "Look...you know that golden egg, right? Does yours wail when you open it?"

"Yeah."

Oakheart went on, "Well...take a bath, and take the egg with you. That way, you can just mull things over in the hot water. It'll help you think...trust me." Seeing the disbelieving look on his face, the Californian Spangled Cat meowed, "Tell you what. You know the prefects' bathroom? It's a really good place for a bath. You can find it on the fourth door to the left of that statue of Chris the Confused on the fifth floor. Password's 'pine fresh.' Gotta go...wanna say good night."

He gave the black tom another smile and hurried back down the stairs to greet Rainleaf, who nuzzled his face with hers.

Nightfang padded back to LionClan Tower alone, thinking. That was strange advice. Why would a bath help him work out what the wailing egg meant? Was Oakheart pulling his whiskers? Was he trying to make Nightfang look like a fool so that Rainleaf would like him even more? Or was he just trying to give a friendly paw?

The Fat Queen and her friend Lakefern were catnapping in the picture over the portrait hole. So Nightfang had to yell "Dragon diver!" loudly before he woke them up, and when he did, they were very cross. He climbed into the den room and found an unpleasant scene: Redblaze and Fawnwillow were having a blazing row, standing a fox-length apart and yowling angrily at each other, each scarlet in the face.

"You don't get it!" Redstone was snarling. "He's using you!"

"How dare you!" Fawnwillow hissed; spots of light brown were appearing on her new golden pelt, and her face was screwed up in anger. "I told you before! I'm not helping Earthclaw! Besides, I can take care of myself!"

Redstone snorted. "Oh come on! He's too old anyways!"

Fawnwillow glared at him. "Is that it?! Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?!"

"Oh yeah?!" Redstone yelled back. "What's that?!"

"Next time, there's a ball...ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Her voice had cracked at this before she saw Nightfang, choking, "Where the hell were you?! Just...never mind! Leave me alone!"

And while she stalked off, Nightfang looked around at Redstone and asked, "Are you two still going on about her going out with Earthclaw?"

"They get scary when they get older," Redstone grumbled.

But apparently, Fawnwillow had heard him, wailing, "Redstone, you've ruined everything!"

The toms mouthed soundlessly like fish out of water as Fawnwillow turned and stormed up the she-cats' staircase to bed. Nightfang swore he heard a sob right when she disappeared.

Redstone turned to look at Nightfang and sputtered, looking stunned, "Well...that there just proves...she missed the point..."

However much he wanted to defend Fawnwillow, Nightfang didn't say anything. He liked being friends with Redstone again too much to speak his mind right now...but he thought Fawnwillow got the point better than Redstone did.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat13: There we go...this is the longest chapter on here yet. But I just hate what Ron said to Hermione. That was rude of him.**

**Harry: I agree...but everyone has their flaws. I know I shouldn't ask this, but what're your flaws, Avatar Cat?**

**AvatarCat13: It's fine. Anyways, I can be naïve and a slight immature. And...I'm afraid I might be a nerd...reasons I'll explain later.**

**Harry: It's fine. And if it's okay, I'd like to say the disclaimer. (AvatarCat13 nods, and Harry turns to the readers) Read and review, everyone! We don't allow flames or they'll be used to make S'Mores, but we allow advice and constructive criticism. And finally, here's a last word before we go.**

**AvatarCat13: I heard that someone had accused me of stealing the lines from the Harry Potter books. But none of that is true; I give ALL credit to J.K. Rowling and all the very amazing stuff she made in the series. But I got access to a website where you read books online anytime.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	24. Tansy Skeeter's Hot Scoop

**AvatarCat13: Hey, folks! Sorry I haven't uploaded a lot; I've been busy with other stories.**

**Ron: It's fine, Avatar Cat. We've been busy with stuff too. How's the weather in the south?**

**AvatarCat13: It's already rained a lot during the night. I don't really get this. How come when it rains here now, it's always harsh? Well...my mom said it's because of the world changing and all that.**

**Ron: And she may be right. (Silence) Blimey...Hermione's really rubbed off on me. So can I say the disclaimer?**

**AvatarCat13: Be my guest.**

**Disclaimer: Does AvatarCat13 own Harry Potter and Warrior Cats? No way! They belong to J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter.**

**Uploading Date: February 19, 2013**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Tansy Skeeter's Hot Scoop**_

Everybody got up late the day after Christmas. The LionClan den room was much quieter than it was lately, yawns littering the lazy banters. Fawnwillow's fur was bushy and light brown again; she admitted to Nightfang that she had used large amounts of Speakeasy's Fur Potion on it for the ball. "But I don't wanna do it every day. I'm okay being the way I am," she explained sensibly, itching a rumbling Garfield behind the ears.

She and Redstone seemed to have reached a silent agreement not to talk about their argument. They were being quite friendly to each other, though strangely reserved. The two toms wasted no time in telling Fawnwillow about the talk they overheard between Badgerstripe and Fuzzystar, but she didn't find the news that Badgerstripe was part saber-tooth cat nearly as flabbergasting as Redstone did.

"I thought he must be," she mewed, shrugging. "I knew he couldn't be pure saber-tooth because he's the size of a tiger but saber-tooth cats; they're a bit taller than a Twoleg. But honestly, all this hysteria about saber-tooth cats...they can't all be horrible. It's the same sort of bigotry that cats have toward werecats. It's just racism."

Redstone looked like he wanted reply mockingly, but perhaps he didn't want another quarrel, because he kept quiet. But he contented himself with shaking his head doubtfully while Fawnwillow wasn't looking.

It was time to think of neglected homework during the first quarter-moon of the winter vacation. Everybody seemed to be feeling rather bored now that Christmas was over...except Nightfang, who was starting to feel nervous again. The trouble was that February the twenty-fourth looked closer from this side of Christmas, and he still hadn't done anything to work on the clue inside the golden egg.

So he started taking the egg out of his suitcase at any time he went up to the dorm, opening it, and listening and hoping that it would make some sense. He strained hard to think of what the sound reminded him of, apart from thirty different Broadway musicals, but he had never heard anything like it. He closed the egg, shook it, and opened it to see if the sound had changed, but it still stayed the same. He tried asking the egg questions, yowling over all the wailing, but nothing else happened. He even kicked the egg across the room...though he hadn't expected that to help.

Nightfang did not forget the hint Oakheart gave him, but his wary feelings toward the golden tom now meant that he did not want to take his help if he could avoid it. In any case, it seemed that if Oakheart really wanted to give him a lending paw, he would have been a lot more clear. He (Nightfang himself) had told Oakheart what was coming in the first mission...and his idea of gratitude was to tell him to take a bath. That was as cheesy as a Twilight movie.

_Well, I don't need his help. And not from someone who keeps walking down the halls with his tail around Rainleaf's anyways._

**(Author's Note: Yes, I loathe the Twilight series. I'm very sorry to those who like it.)**

**...**

And so the first day of the new term arrived. Nightfang set off to lessons, weighed down with his school stuff as usual, but also with the lurking worry of the egg heavy in his belly. He felt like he was carrying that around on his back too.

Snow was still thick on the grounds, and the hothouse windows were covered in mist so thick that they couldn't see through them in their Herbology class. Nobody was looking forward to Care of Other Animals in this weather, yet like what Redstone said, the skrewts would probably warm them up nicely, either by chasing them or blasting off so forcefully that the hut would catch fire. The snow brushed against Nightfang's belly, getting his fur wet, but he trudged on; sometimes it paid well to be part Maine Coon.

When they arrived at the cabin, however, they found an elderly Exotic Shorthair mix with shorn yet slightly woolly gray fur and a projecting lower jaw standing at his front door. She barked at them as they struggled through the snow, "Hurry up, now. The bell rang five minutes ago."

"Who are you?" Redstone asked, staring at her. "Where's Badgerstripe?"

"My name is Briarberry Grubbly-Plank," she meowed briskly. "I am your temporary Care of Other Animals mentor."

"Where is he?" Nightfang repeated loudly.

Briarberry replied shortly, "He is under the weather."

Quiet and unfriendly laughter reached Nightfang's ears. He turned and saw them: Iceheart and the rest of the ViperClan cats were joining the class. Almost all of them looked smug, and none of them looked surprised to see Briarberry here.

"This way, please," Briarberry meowed, striding off around the corral where the Oasis horses were shivering. The Golden Trio followed her, looking back over their shoulders at their giant friend's cabin, but all the curtains were closed. Was Badgerstripe in there, alone and sick?

Nightfang hurried to catch up with the Exotic Shorthair. "What's wrong with Badgerstripe?" he asked, panting as he lifted each paw from the snow.

"Nothing," she meowed, sounding as if she thought he was being nosy. "Never mind it now."

"I DO mind," Nightfang retorted hotly. "What's up with him?"

To his fury, Briarberry padded on as if she couldn't hear him. She led them past the corral where the huge Oasis horses were standing, gathered together against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the frosty swamp, where a large beautiful white-coated unicorn was tethered. Many she-cats gaped at the sight of the mythical horse.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Browntuft whispered. "How did she get it? I thought they're hard to catch!"

The unicorn was so brightly white that it made the snow all around look gray with shame. It was pawing the ground nervously with its golden hooves and throwing back its sleek horned head, neighing.

"Keep back, toms!" Briarberry called, lifting her tail in front of Nightfang's face. "They prefer a female's touch, unicorns. She-cats up to the front, and approach with special care. Come on, easy does it..."

She and the she-cats prowled slowly forward towards the unicorn, leaving the toms standing near the corral fence, watching. Right when Briarberry was out of hearing range, Nightfang turned to Redstone, worried.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" he rasped. "You don't think a skrewt got to him?"

"Oh, he hasn't been attacked, Potter. Oh, don't worry," Iceheart sneered softly, having just heard him. "No, he's just too ashamed to show his big ugly face to the public."

"What do you mean by that?" Nightfang growled sharply.

Iceheart took the bag off of his back, dug inside, and pulled out a folded page of newspaper. "There you go. Hate to break it to you. Potter..."

But at the last part, he did not look sorry at all. He smirked as Nightfang snatched the page away, unfolded it, and read it, with the other toms (Redstone, Ashfoot, Sandfur, and Toadfall) looking over his shoulder. It was an article topped with a picture of Badgerstripe looking very devious.

_DUMBLEDORE'S FERAL MISTAKE_

_Silverstar Dumbledore, unusual leader of the Forest, School of Warriorism, has never been afraid to make notorious staff appointments, writes Tansy Skeeter, Special Writer. In September of this year, he hired Stormwatcher "Mad-Eye" Moody, the very jinx-happy ex-Aura Cat, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a choice that caused many raised eyebrows at the Government of Magic, given his well-known habit of attacking anybody or anything who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Stormwatcher Moody, however, looks reliable and kind when compared the saber-tooth tiger hybrid Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Other Animals._

_Badgerstripe Hagrid, who admits to being exiled from the Forest in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, yet, he used his mysterious power over the headmaster to secure the extra post of Care of Other Animals mentor, over the heads of many better-skilled applicants._

_A startlingly large and ferocious beast, Hagrid has been using his new authority to scare the apprentices in his care with a chain of terrible animals. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has injured several apprentices during lessons that many admit to being "very scary."_

"_I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Lobsterclaw Crabbe got his tail bitten by an earthworm," says Iceheart Malfoy, a fourth-year apprentice. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything until now."_

_Hagrid refuses to cease his crusade of fear, however. In a chat with a Daily Warrior reporter last moon, he admitted that he had bred creatures he has named "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between carrion fleshstripper spiders and emberspit scorpions. The creation of new breeds of magical animals is, of course, an activity usually observed by the Branch for the Ruling and Control of Other Animals. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be even more important than such trivial restrictions._

_"I was just having fun," he says before quickly changing the subject._

_As if this were not enough, the Daily Warrior has just excavated evidence that he is not...as he has always pretended...a purebred cat. He is not, in fact, even a cat at all. His mother, we can fully reveal, is none other than the infamous saber-tooth tigress Frieda, whose rumors of being an infamous cattle killer scared many into hunting her. But her location is currently unknown._

_Ferocious and brutal, the saber-tooth tigers had been thought to be extinct in the Ice Age by the Twolegs. But surviving populations brought themselves to the point of extinction by fighting amongst themselves during the last century. The remaining monsters joined the ranks of He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named and were accountable for some of the worst mass Twoleg murders of his reign of terror._

_While many saber-tooth tigers who served He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named were killed by Aura Cats working against the Dark Side, Frieda was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the saber-tooth communities still existing in mountains. If his larks in Care of Other Animals lessons are any guide, however, Frieda's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature._

_In a bizarre twist, Badgerstripe Hagrid is believed to have developed a close friendship with the cat who brought around You-Know-Who's fall from power...thus driving his own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's followers, into hiding. Perhaps Nightfang Potter is ignorant of the unpleasant truth about his large friend...but Silverstar Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Nightfang Potter, along with his fellow apprentices, is warned about the dangers of being friends with hybrid cats._

Nightfang finished reading and looked up at Redstone, whose mouth hung open. "How did she find out?" the ginger tom whispered.

But that wasn't what was bothering Nightfang. He turned around and spat at Iceheart, "Okay, what the hell do you mean when you say 'We all hate Hagrid?'" He flicked his tail at a sneering satisfied Lobsterclaw and added, "And what's all this pile of fox-dung about him getting his tail bitten by an earthworm? They haven't even got teeth!"

"I think that should end the buffoon's teaching career for good," Iceheart jeered, his cold gray eyes glinting. "A saber-tooth hybrid...and I thought he just swallowed a bottle of Skele-Gro when he was young. None of the parents are going to like this at all. They'll be worried he'll eat their kits...this should be a laugh!"

"You bastard!" Nightfang hissed, pouncing on him. "You just don't get it, do you? I oughta-"

"Are you paying attention?"

Briarberry's voice carried over to the toms; the she-cats were all grouped around the unicorn now, patting it. Nightfang was so angry that the article shook under his claws as he got off of Iceheart, who smirked as he slid away. Then the black tom turned to stare unseeingly at the unicorn, whose many magical properties Briarberry was now counting in a loud voice, so that the toms could hear too.

"I hope she stays!" Daisystem gushed when the lesson had ended and they all headed back to the castle for lunch. "That's more what Care of Other Animals should be like: proper creatures like unicorns, not monsters like hippogriffs and skrewts!"

"What about Badgerstripe?" Nightfang asked angrily as they went up the steps. He had already picked up the article to show Fawnwillow. "What's wrong with his classes?"

Daisystem glared at him. "What about him? He can still be gamekeeper, right?"

The Siamese she-cat had been very aloof towards Nightfang since the ball. He knew he should have paid her more attention, but she seemed to have had a good time without him. She was now telling anybody who would listen that she had made arrangements to meet the Oasis tomcat in the Village on the next weekend trip.

"That was a good lesson," Fawnwillow told her friends as they entered the Great Hall. "I didn't know half the things Briarberry told us about-"

"Look at this!" Nightfang snarled and shoved the article under her nose.

Fawnwillow's jaws fell open as she read, and her reaction was the same as Redstone's. "How did that nasty Skeeter cat find out? You think Badgerstripe told her?"

Nightfang, still furious, led his friends over to the LionClan table, leaping into a seat. "No. He never even told us. I think she was so mad he wouldn't give her horrible stuff about me that she went snooping around to get back at him."

"Maybe she heard him telling Fuzzystar at the ball," the Angora she-cat mewed quietly.

"We'd have seen her in the garden!" Redstone replied. "Anyway, she's not supposed to come into school anymore. Badgerstripe said Silverstar barred her from the grounds some time ago."

"Maybe she has an Invisibility Pelt with her," Nightfang growled, picking up some spaghetti and dropping it in anger. He licked a paw and began clearing his face of tomato sauce, meowing, "Sort of thing she'd do, hide in bushes listening to other cats and snooping."

Fawnwillow's face was now totally deadpan as she meowed, "Oh, so you mean like you two?"

Redstone hissed, "We weren't _trying_ to hear him! We didn't have any choice! The stupid furball, talking about his saber-tooth mother where anyone could have heard him!"

Nightfang meowed, "We have to go and see him. This evening, after Divination. Tell him we want him back...don't _you_ want him back?" he shot at Fawnwillow.

"I..." Fawnwillow looked away before turning back. "I won't pretend it wasn't nice, having a suitable Care of Other Animals lesson for once...but of course I want him back!" she added hastily, cringing under his furious emerald stare.

So later on that evening after dinner, the Golden Trio left the castle again and went down through the snowy school grounds to Badgerstripe's log cabin. They knocked once, and Marmaduke's booming barks answered.

"Open up, Badgerstripe, it's us!" Nightfang shouted, pawing at the door. "Let us in!"

But the big black cat didn't answer. They could hear Marmaduke scratching at the door, whining, but it didn't open at all. They hammered on it for ten more minutes; Redstone even leapt onto a windowsill and pawed at the window, but there was no response.

"Why's he avoiding us now?" Fawnwillow asked after they gave up and stalked back to the school. "Does he really think we'd care about him being a saber-tooth hybrid?"

**...**

But it seemed that Badgerstripe really _did_ care. They didn't see a sign of him all throughout the quarter-moon. He didn't appear at the staff table at meals, they didn't see him going about his jolly gamekeeper duties on the grounds, and Briarberry continued to take the Care of Other Animals classes. Seeing this, Iceheart had taken to gloating at every possible opportunity.

"Missing your filthy half-bred friend?" he kept hissing to Nightfang whenever there was a mentor around, so that he was safe from his retaliation. "Missing the bear cat?"

Angry, Nightfang spat, "Why don't you play in the catnip, you little ferret? If Mad-Eye doesn't beat you there first."

This caused Iceheart to look around in shock while Nightfang slipped away.

There was a Village visit halfway through January, and Nightfang needed a slight break from it all. Fawnwillow was very surprised that he was going to go there.

"I just thought you'd want the peace and quiet," she mewed. "You know...workin' on that egg."

"Oh, I..." Nightfang knew he had to lie to protect himself from her wrath. "I think I got a good idea what the mission's about now."

Fawnwillow looked impressed. "Really? That's great, Nightfang!"

The British Shorthair mix felt his insides give a guilty squirm, but he ignored them. He still had a moon and a quarter-moon to work out that egg clue, and that was away. Plus, if he went down to the Village, he could see Badgerstripe there and get a chance to persuade him to come back.

**...**

The Golden Trio left the castle together on Saturday and set off through the cold snowy grounds toward the gates. As they passed the Mountain ship tied in the bay, they saw Earthclaw emerge onto the deck, shedding the heavy fur coat he always carried around. He looked skinny for a cat of his breed, but he was apparently a lot tougher than he looked, for he climbed up to the side of the ship and dove right into the lake. The cats stared as the dark tabby head bobbed out into the middle of the bay.

"Does he have bees in his brain?" Nightfang asked. "It's leaf-bare! The water will be freezing!"

"It's a bit warmer in Germany than here in Alaska," Fawnwillow meowed. "I suppose he doesn't feel the cold thanks to that thick fur."

"Yeah, but there's still the sperm whale," Redstone added. He didn't sound anxious at all; instead, he sounded rather hopeful.

Fawnwillow noticed his tone and frowned. "He's really nice, you know," she meowed. "He's not like you'd think he is, coming from the Mountain. He told me it's better here."

Redstone said nothing. The ginger tom hadn't mentioned Earthclaw since the ball, but Nightfang had found a miniature tail under his bed on the day after Christmas, which had looked like it had been snapped off a certain small model figure wearing German AirBall capes. He found out what really happened, but he kept his mouth shut about it.

Nightfang kept his green eyes open for Badgerstripe down the icy High Street and suggested a visit to the Three Wings once he saw that Badgerstripe was not in the shops. The inn was as crowded as ever, but one look around at all the tables told him that Badgerstripe wasn't there. His heart sinking, he padded up to the bar with his friends, ordered three hot lattes for them to share from Madam Roseflower, and thought glumly that he should have stayed behind and listened to the egg wailing after all.

"Doesn't he ever go into the office?" Fawnwillow suddenly whispered. "Look!"

She flicked her tail into the mirror behind the bar, and Nightfang saw Graytail reflected there, sitting in a shadowy corner with a gang of monkeys of different species. The gray tom was talking very fast in a low voice to the monkeys, all of whom had their arms crossed and their tails curled and were looking menacing.

_This is odd._ Nightfang thought Graytail was here at the Three Wings on a weekend when there was no Tri-warrior event, and therefore no judging was to be done. He watched him in the mirror, and he was looking tense again, quite as tense as he had that night on the island before the Dark Mark appeared. But just then, as Graytail glanced over at the bar, he spotted Nightfang and stood up.

"In a moment, folks!" he heard him say curtly to the monkeys as he hurried through the inn to Nightfang, his childlike grin back in place. "Hello, Nightfang! How are you? I've been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?"

Nightfang dipped his head to him. "Fine, thank you."

Graytail nodded eagerly. "Can I have a word with you, Nightfang? If you two don't mind," he added, looking over at his friends.

"Erm...sure," Redstone meowed as he and Fawnwillow went off to find a table.

So Graytail led Nightfang along the bar to the end that was furthest from Madam Roseflower and meowed, "Well done again on your fine show against that dragon, Nightfang. Really superb."

"Thanks," Nightfang replied.

But he knew this couldn't be all Graytail wanted to tell him, because he could have praised him in front of his friends. The Siberian mix didn't seem in a rush to let the cat out of the bag, though. Nightfang saw him glance into the mirror over the bar at the monkeys, who were all watching them in silence through their dark eyes.

"Absolute nightmare," Graytail muttered in an undertone, seeing him watching them too. "Their English isn't really too good; it's like being back with the Germans at the AirBall World Trophy, but at least they used sign language a cat could recognize. They keep nattering in Gobbledygook, and I only know one word of Gobbledygook. Bladvak. It means 'hammer.' I don't like to use it in case they think I'm a threat to them." At this, he gave a short booming laugh.

Nightfang saw how the monkeys were still watching Graytail closely. "What do they want?"

"Er..." Graytail looked nervous all of a sudden. "They're ...er...looking for Crouchfoot."

"Why are they looking for him here?" Nightfang asked. "Isn't he at the Government in Juneau?"

Graytail looked uneasy. "Er...actually, I have no idea where he is. He sort of...stopped coming to work. Been absent for days now. Sandthorn, his assistant, says he's ill. It appears he's just been sending instructions in by owl. But would you mind not mentioning that to anyone? Tansy's still poking around here, and I'm betting she'd work up Crouchfoot's illness into something sinister. Probably say he's gone missing like Wetnose."

Nightfang asked, "Have you heard anything about Wetnose?"

"No," Graytail replied, looking tense again. "I've got cats looking..." _About damn time, _Nightfang thought. "...and it's all strange. She definitely arrived in Australia because she met her second cousin there. And then she left the cousin's house to go south and see an aunt of hers...and then she seems to have disappeared without trace on the way. I'll see if I can see where she's got to; she doesn't seem the type to run away, for instance, but still. What are we doing, talking about monkeys and Wetnose? I really wanted to ask you..." He lowered his voice and went on "...how are you getting on with your egg?"

"Not bad," Nightfang answered falsely.

Graytail seemed to know he wasn't honest, for he meowed in a low voice, "Listen...I feel so bad about all this...you were thrown into this tournament and didn't volunteer for it..." His voice got so quiet that Nightfang had to lean closer to listen. "...and if I can help at all...a poke in the right direction...I've taken a liking to you; I mean, look at the way you got past that dragon! Well anyways, if you need any help, just say the word."

Nightfang stared at him in shock. "Aren't we supposed to work on the clues alone?" he asked, careful to not sound as if he was accusing the head of the Branch of Magical Games and Sports of breaking the rules.

"Well...yes," Graytail answered edgily. "But...come on, Nightfang, we all want a victory for the Forest, don't we?"

"Have you offered help for Oakheart?" Nightfang said.

A frown came across Graytail's smooth face as he meowed, "No. I...well, like I say, I've taken a liking to you. Just thought I'd offer some advice for you..."

Nightfang dipped his head to him. "Well, thanks again, but I think I'm nearly there with the egg. A couple more days should crack it."

He wasn't fully sure why he had just refused Graytail's help, except that he was more or less a stranger to him. Accepting his help would feel more like cheating than asking advice from his friends or his godfather. It wouldn't be fair.

Graytail looked almost insulted, but the gray tom couldn't say much more as the Weasley twins turned up at that point. "Hey, Mr. Bagman," Berrytail greeted him brightly. "Can we buy you a drink or two?"

"Er...no thank you, boys," Graytail replied, giving Nightfang one more frustrated look.

The twins looked as disappointed as Graytail, who was looking at Nightfang as if he let him down badly. Then he hurried out of the inn, calling over his shoulder, "Well, I better run. Nice seeing you all. Good luck out there, Nightfang."

At this, the monkeys all slid off their chairs and exited after him, their tails held up over their bodies. Giving a sigh, Nightfang went off to rejoin his friends at their table.

"What did he want?" Redstone asked right when Nightfang leapt up into his seat.

"He wanted to help me with the egg," the black cat replied.

"Really?!" Fawnwillow squeaked, looking very shocked. "But he's one of the judges; he really shouldn't be doing that. Besides, you've already worked it out...haven't you?"

"Er...almost."

Fawnwillow still looked stern. "Silverstar wouldn't like it if he knew Graytail was trying to coax you to cheat. I hope he's trying to help Oakheart too!"

Nightfang shook his head. "I asked him, and he didn't."

"Who cares if Diggory's getting help?" Redstone added with a yawn.

"Those monkeys didn't look friendly," Fawnwillow remarked, lapping up tonguefuls of her drink. "Nothing like monkeys shown in the media. What were they doing here anyways?"

"Graytail said they're looking for Crouchfoot," Nightfang told her. "He's still sick. He hasn't been into work lately."

Redstone gave a shrug and suggested, "Maybe Sandthorn poisoned him. Probably thinks if he dies, he'll be made head of the Branch of Worldwide Warrior Teamwork."

Fawnwillow gave him a glower and snapped, "Don't kid about things like that. But still, it's weird," she added. "The monkeys looking for Crouchfoot...they'd normally deal with the Branch for the Ruling and Control of Other Animals."

"Crouchfoot can speak different languages," Nightfang meowed. "Maybe they need a translator."

"Worrying about poor wittle monkeys now?" Redstone asked Fawnwillow, snorting with laughter. "Thinking of making S.P.O.G.? Society for the Protection of Obnoxious Monkeys?"

"Ha, ha. I forgot how to laugh," Fawnwillow retorted sarcastically. "Monkeys in the warrior world don't really need protection. Haven't you paid attention to what Professor Franklin told us about monkey rebellions?"

"No," both toms replied.

Fawnwillow rolled her orange eyes, but she went on anyways, "Well, they're quite capable of taking on a warrior cat. They're very clever, and they're not like lemurs, who almost never stick up for themselves."

"Uh-oh," Redstone suddenly gulped, staring at the door.

Tansy Skeeter had just entered the inn. She was wearing a banana-yellow cape today; her long stylish claws were painted shocking pink, and she was escorted by her portly paparazzo. She bought some drinks, and she and the paparazzo made their way through the crowds to a table nearby. The Golden Trio glared at her as she approached, and she was talking fast and looking very satisfied about something.

"...didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo?" she was meowing. "Now why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a troop of monkeys anyway? Showing them all the sights...that's a pile of crowfood there; he was always a bad liar. Think we should do a bit of digging on him? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Graytail Bagman...' Lively start to a sentence, Bozo...we just need to find a story to fit it..."

"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" Nightfang snarled loudly.

A few cats looked around to see what was going on. Tansy's eyes widened behind jeweled spectacles she wore on her face as she saw who had spoken. Then she purred, "Nightfang! How lovely to see you! Why don't you come and join-?"

Nightfang backed away, spitting furiously, "I wouldn't come near you with a sky-length tree. Why'd you do that to Badgerstripe?"

Tansy raised her heavily penciled eyebrows. "Our readers have a right to the truth. I am merely doing my-"

"Who cares if he's a saber-tooth hybrid?" Nightfang retorted angrily. "There's nothing wrong with him! He's our friend!"

The whole inn had gone very quiet now. Roseflower was staring over from behind the bar, seemingly oblivious to seeing the flagon she was filling with mead overflowing. Tansy's smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once as she snapped open her handbag and pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill.

"How about giving me an interview about the Badgerstripe you know?" she asked. "The cat behind the muscles...your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it...would you call him a father substitute of some sort?"

Fawnwillow stood up, looking like she was going to fly at her any moment. She snarled through gritted teeth, "You terrible hag! You don't care, do you? All you care is anything nasty for a story! Even Graytail-"

But Tansy's eyes hardened as they rested on the light tabby. "Sit down, you silly kit, and don't talk about things you don't know. I know things about Graytail that would make your fur curl...not that it needs it anymore," she added, eyeing Fawnwillow's busy pelt.

"Rrr..." Fawnwillow was growling, her fur fluffed out to twice its size. Finally, she spun around on the spot and stalked off, hissing, "Come on, guys. Let's get outta here."

So they left, many cats staring at them as they went. Nightfang glanced back as they reached the door and saw that Tansy's Quick-Quotes Quill was still out. It was zooming backward and forward over a piece of parchment on the table.

"She's gonna be going after you next, Fawnwillow," Redstone mewed in a low and worried voice as they padded quickly back up the street.

Fawnwillow's claws were sliding out from rage. "Let her try! I'll show her! Silly kit, eh? I'll get her back for all she's done against us. First Nightfang, then Badgerstripe..."

Redstone replied nervously, "Look, Fawnwillow. You don't wanna go upsetting Tansy, I'm serious. She'll dig up something on you in no time."

"My parents and Twoleg don't read the Daily Warrior, so she can't scare me into hiding!" she retorted, now striding along so fast that it was all they could do to keep up with her. The last time Nightfang had seen Fawnwillow so angry, she had claws Iceheart's face. "And Badgerstripe isn't hiding anymore! He shouldn't let that excuse for a cat insult him! Come on!"

Breaking into a run, she led them all the way back up the road. The three cats ran through the gates flanked by winged boars and up through the grounds to Badgerstripe's cabin. The curtains were still drawn shut, and they could hear Marmaduke barking as they approached.

"Badgerstripe!" Fawnwillow called, pawing at his front door. "That's enough now! We all know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mom was a saber-tooth! You can't let that evil Tansy cat do this to you! Now get out here; you're just being-"

But then the door finally opened. Fawnwillow had just meowed "Thank Star-!" when she swiftly stopped, and very suddenly so, because she had found herself facing, not Badgerstripe...but Silverstar himself

"Good afternoon," he purred pleasantly, smiling at them.

Fawnwillow gave a nervous chuckle and mewled in a small voiced, "Sorry, sir. We...er...we wanted to see Badgerstripe. To see how he's doing."

Silverstar nodded, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "Yes, I guessed as much too. Why don't you three come in?"

"Oh, um...okay."

So the Golden Trio went into the hut, where Marmaduke pounced on Nightfang the moment he entered, barking madly and trying to lick his face. The Maine Coon mix managed to get the huge Great Dane off him and looked around.

There was Badgerstripe. The giant black cat was sitting at his table, where there were two large bowls of cream. Nightfang saw that he looked really messy; his face was blotchy, his dark amber eyes were swollen, and he had gone to the extreme where his fur was concerned. Far from trying to make it behave and be its short coarse self, it now looked like he had been turned into a bristly black sheep.

"Hey, Badgerstripe," Nightfang meowed.

Badgerstripe looked dully up at him and croaked in a hoarse voice, "Yo."

"I believe it is time for more cream," Silverstar spoke up, closing the door behind the Golden Trio. He flicked his tail-wand around and twiddled around with it; a revolving milk pitcher had just appeared in midair along with a plate of brownies. The silver tabby tom then magicked the tray onto the table, and everybody sat down.

There was a slight pause, and then Silverstar asked Badgerstripe, "Did you by chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Badgerstripe?"

The tabby she-cat blushed a bit, but Silverstar smiled at her and continued on, "Nightfang, Redstone, and Fawnwillow still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door. They miss seeing you."

"Of course we still want to know you!" Nightfang agreed, staring at Badgerstripe. "Do you think we'd care about anything that Skeeter witch...sorry," he added quickly, looking at his leader.

"I have gone briefly deaf and haven't any idea what you just said," Silverstar calmly replied, flicking his tail and staring at the ceiling.

Nightfang shrugged sheepishly and looked back at Badgerstripe. "I just meant...Badgerstripe, did you think we'd care what that...cat...wrote about you?"

Two large tears leaked out of the gamekeeper's dark tawny eyes and fell slowly onto his huge rabbit-sized paws. He was indeed hearing what the other black cat was saying.

Silverstar nodded, still looking up at the ceiling. "And that is living proof of what I have been telling you, Badgerstripe. I have shown you the letters from the limitless parents who remember you from their days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I fired you, they would have something to say about it by now."

"Not all of 'em," Badgerstripe groaned hoarsely. "Not all of 'em wan me ter stay. Them guys want me outta here."

The Persian tom now glanced sternly at him. "Really? If you are holding out for worldwide popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this log cabin for a long time. Not a moon has passed since I became the leader of the Forest when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I manage it. But what did I do? Bar myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody? No."

Badgerstripe croaked, "B-But...yeh're not a saber-tooth hybrid!"

"But look at what I've got for relatives!" Nightfang insisted furiously. "Look at the Dursley cats! They may treat me like I'm a pain in the tail, but I don't let them get me down!"

"An excellent point," Silverstar agreed. "And even my own brother, Grizzleface, was charged for practicing improper charms on a sheep. It was all over the newspapers, but did Grizzleface hide? No, of course not! Instead, he held his head and tail high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he reads the newspaper, so that may not have been valor..."

"Come back and teach the class, Badgerstripe," Fawnwillow mewed quietly. "Please come back. We really miss you."

Badgerstripe gulped as more tears leaked out down his cheeks and onto the floor.

Silverstar stood up now and meowed, "I refuse to accept your resignation, Badgerstripe, and I expect you back at work on Monday. You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall tomorrow morning. No excuses. Good day to you all."

And he left the cabin, pausing only to rub a whining Marmaduke's muzzle. When the door shut behind him, Badgerstripe laid down and buried his face in his huge paws, his broad shoulders shaking with sobs. Fawnwillow kept rubbing his foreleg with her tail, and at last, he looked up, his eyes bloodshot, and groaned, "Great cat, Silverstar...great cat..."

"Yeah, he is," Redstone replied sagely. "Can I have one of these brownies?"

"Knock yerself out," Badgerstripe muttered, wiping his eyes with his paw. "Ar, he's right...yeh're all right. I've been stupid; Pops would've been ashamed o' the way I've been behavin'..." More tears leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully and muttered, "I've never shown yeh a picture of my ol' Pops, have I? Well, here..."

He got up and went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a small white cat with a frosty-gray face and Badgerstripe's dark amber eyes; he must have been a Tonkinese mix. Plus, he was beaming as he sat on top of Badgerkit's shoulder. Badgerkit had been around the height of a newborn fawn, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was young, round, and smooth...he looked hardly older than eleven.

"That was taken just after I got inter the Forest," Badgerstripe croaked. "Dad was happy...we thought I might not be a warrior 'cause of...my mama...well, anyways. I never was top dog at magic, really...but at least he never saw me exiled. He died in me second year. Silverstar was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job...he trust cats. Gives 'em second chances, he does...that's what sets 'im apart from other leaders. He'll accept any cat at the Forest as long as they've got the skills. Knows cats can be great even if their families weren't...all that decent. But some don't understand that. There's some who'll hold it against yeh or even just pretend they had big bones rather than stand up and say this: I am what I am, and I ain't ashamed of it. 'Never be ashamed,' Pops used ter tell me. 'There's some who'll hold it against you, but they ain't worth botherin'.' And he was right. I've been a mouse-brain. And I ain't botherin' with her no more, I'll tell yeh what. Big bones...huh. I'll give HER big bones."

The Golden Trio looked at one another nervously; Nightfang knew would rather have taken on fifty dragons than admit that he had overheard him talking to Fuzzystar. But Badgerstripe was still talking, apparently unaware that he had said anything odd.

The big black tom looked up from the picture of his father, his eyes now bright, "Hey, yeh know what, Nightfang? When I first met you, you reminded me o' _me_ a bit. Both parents gone, and you was feelin' like yeh wouldn't fit in at the Forest, remember that? Not sure yeh were really up to it...and now look at yeh now! School guardian! Yay!"

He looked at Nightfang for a moment and then meowed very seriously, "Yeh know what I'd love ter see, lil' buddy? I'd love ter see yeh win. It'll show 'em all...yeh don't have ter be purebred ter do it. Yeh don't have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em that Silverstar's the one who got it right, lettin' anyone in as long as they got the goods. By the way, how you doin' with that egg, kid?"

"Great," Nightfang lied. "Really great."

Now Badgerstripe's miserable face broke into a wide watery smile as he rasped, "That's my boy...you show 'em, kid, you show 'em. Beat 'em all."

Lying to Badgerstripe didn't feel like lying to anyone else. Nightfang padded back to the castle later that afternoon with his friends, unable to evict the image of the happy look on his broad face as he had imagined him winning the tournament. He knew he couldn't lose...but he felt really unsure about how his friends would react to him losing.

The perplexing egg weighed more heavily than ever before in his mind that night, knowing that he couldn't put the egg aside for much longer. And by the time he went to sleep, he made up his mind...it was time for a certain suggestion to be put into play…and for him to swallow his pride.

_We'll see if Oakheart's hint is worth anything._

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat13: That's pretty great for a new chapter. And...sorry there hadn't been a part from the movie on there; in the real movie, Hagrid's parentage hadn't been talked about.**

**Ron: I guess they didn't want to make it public. I mean...the books already told us that, haven't they?**

**AvatarCat13: Yep. And I'm getting a job at the mall in March; it'll be for three weeks, but I'll get paid well. All I gotta do is dress up like the Easter Bunny and help kids get their pictures taken...and I gotta just sit there and not say a word.**

**Ron: That'll be fun. And is it okay if I say the review thing? (AvatarCat13 nods, and Ron turns to the readers) Oi! Remember to read and review! Since Easter's coming up, those who review will get a virtual basket of your favorite Easter candies. We don't allow flames, but we welcome advice and constructive criticism as long as it's not harsh.**

**Both: See ya next time! And Happy early Easter!**


	25. Bathing Egg Mystery

**AvatarCat13: Hey everyone! And I'm really sorry I haven't uploaded this story recently. And Hermione...I think you might be interested in this chapter.**

**Hermione: Why? Because we've seen Harry in the nude on here?**

**AvatarCat13: Nope. You get to see how he figures out that clue all by himself.**

**Hermione: Oh. (Smiles brightly) ...alright then. So I've heard you went to Georgia for your half-brother's 13****th**** birthday. How was it?**

**AvatarCat13: It was great! He lives out in the country, where there are a few neighbors here and there...and he's a teenager now! Well, that's enough of that; we better go on with today's disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: Do I own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats? Nope. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter respectively.**

**Uploading Date: April 12, 2013**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Bathing Egg Mystery**_

Nightfang didn't know how long a bath he needed to work out the egg's secret, but he decided to do it at night, when he would take as much time as he wanted. Even though he was unwilling to accept more favors from Oakheart, he also decided to use the prefects' bathroom. Not a lot of cats except for prefects were allowed there, so it was much likely that he would be left in peace.

So Nightfang planned his expedition carefully, for he had been caught out of bed and out-of-bounds by Oscar in the middle of the night once, and he didn't want to repeat the experience. The Invisibility Pelt would be essential, and as an added safety measure, he thought he would take the Marauders' Map, which was another most useful aid to rule-breaking Nightfang owned: the map showed the entire Forest map, including shortcuts and secret passageways and, most importantly, the cats inside the castle as tiny branded dots moving around the corridors. This would let Nightfang know if somebody was approaching the bathroom.

On Thursday night, the black cat sneaked up to bed, put on the Pelt, crept downstairs, and, just like he did on the night when Badgerstripe showed him the dragons, waited for the picture hole to open. This time, it was Redstone who waited outside to give the Fat Queen the password, which was "borage leaves".

"Good luck," the ginger tom muttered, climbing into the room as Nightfang crept past him.

It was uneasy moving under the Pelt tonight because he had the heavy egg in his bag and his map held in his jaws so he could see it. Yet the moonlit halls were empty and still, and by checking the map at tactical pauses, Nightfang was able to make sure that he wouldn't run into anyone he wanted to evade. When he reached the statue of Chris the Confused, a lost-looking sloth with a stick up his nose, he located the right door, leaned close to it, and muttered the password, "Pine fresh," just as Oakheart told him to do.

The door creaked open, and Nightfang slid inside, locked the door behind him, and pulled off the Pelt, looking around. His reaction was that it would be worth being a prefect to use this place.

It was softly lit by a grand candle-filled chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, including what looked like an empty four-sided swimming pool in the middle of the floor. About a hundred golden spouts stood all around the edges, each with a differently colored jewel set into its handle. There was also a diving board like what Twolegs used when they swam. Long white linen curtains hung at the windows, a pile of fleecy white towels sat in a corner, and there was a single golden-framed painting on the wall. It featured a bright gray dolphin who was fast asleep under the surface of the water, seaweed over her face. It fluttered every time she snored.

Nightfang moved forward and looked around, his pawsteps echoing off the walls. As glorious as the bathroom was (and interested in trying out a few of those taps), he couldn't help but feel that Oakheart was confusing him. How was this supposed to help solve the egg's mystery? Still, he put one of the fluffy towels, the Pelt, map, and egg at the side of the swimming pool-bath, and then he padded to the edge and twisted a few taps.

He could tell that they carried different kinds of bubble bath mixed with the water, yet it wasn't bubble bath as Nightfang had ever experienced. One tap gushed pink and blue bubbles the size of stones, another tap poured icy foam so thick that he thought it would support his weight if he tested it, and a third sent heavily scented purple clouds hovering over the surface of the water. Nightfang amused himself for a while turning the taps on and off, feeling the inner playful cat enjoying the effect of one whose jet bounced off the surface of the water in large arcs. Then, when the deep pool was full of hot water, foam, and bubbles, which took a short time due to its size, he turned off all the taps and slid into the water.

It was so deep that his paws barely touched the bottom, and Nightfang actually did a couple of dog paddles before swimming back to the side and treading water, staring at the egg. Even if it was enjoyable to swim in hot foamy water with clouds of rainbow steam wafting all around him, no ideas came to him, no burst of insight. Nightfang climbed out of the water (and felt it cling to his long fur), pushed the egg into the bath with his slippery pads, and opened it. The screeching sound filled the bathroom, echoing off the marble walls, but it sounded just as perplexing as ever, if not more so with all the echoes.

So he shut it again, worried that the sound would attract Oscar, as he thought, _I don't think Oakheart's plan is doing well. _And then, what made him jump so badly that he dropped the egg, which clattered away across the bathroom floor, someone spoke.

"If I were you, I'd put that egg in the water."

Nightfang had swallowed a considerable amount of bubbles in shock and stood up, coughing some water out. He saw the ghost of a very glum-looking tabby cat sitting on top of one of the taps, her tail wrapped around her paws. It was Carping Turtleneck, a ghost who was usually to be heard sobbing in a toilet three floors below.

"Turtleneck! Wha-What're you doing here?!" The foam was so dense that this hardly mattered, but he had a feeling that Turtleneck was spying on him from one of the taps since he arrived.

"I closed my eyes when you got in," she mewed, blinking at him with large eyes. "But you better be careful...or they'll be gone. And you haven't been to see me for ages."

Nightfang paddled over until she could see his head. "Yeah...but aren't I _not_ supposed to come into your bathroom? It's a she-cats' one."

Turtleneck mewed miserably, "You didn't used to care. You used to visit all the time."

This was true. But it was only because the Golden Trio found her out-of-order toilets a fitting place to brew Polyjuice Potion in secret, a forbidden potion that had turned him and Redstone into clones of Monkeynose and Lobsterclaw in that order for an hour, so that they could sneak into the ViperClan den room.

"I got told off for going in there." Nightfang mewed, which was half-true; Sandthorn had caught him coming out of that bathroom. "I thought I better not come back after that."

"Oh...I see..." Turtleneck raised a hind leg and started scratching her ear in a gloomy way. "Anyways, I'd try to put the egg in the water if I were you. That's what Oakheart did."

Nightfang hissed, "What?! Have you been spying on him too?! What'd you do, sneak up here in the evenings to watch the prefects take baths?!"

Turtleneck shrugged rather craftily. "Sometimes, but I've never really come out to speak to anyone before."

"I feel really honored now," Nightfang growled darkly. "Okay, I'll try it. But you better keep your eyes shut!"

He made sure Turtleneck covered her eyes before hoisting himself out of the bath and going to retrieve the egg. Once he was back in the water, Turtleneck lifted one paw a bit and mewed, "Go on, then. Open it under the water!"

So Nightfang lowered the egg beneath the foamy surface and opened it...and this time, it did not wail like it usually did. A gurgling song was coming out of it, a song whose words he couldn't recognize through the water.

"You need to put your head under the water too," Turtleneck went on, enjoying bossing him around. "Go on!"

Giving a sigh, Nightfang took a great breath and slid under the surface. And now, floating near the marble bottom of the bubble-filled bath, he heard a chorus of uncanny voices singing to him from the open egg floating before him.

_"__Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you are searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour, the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."_

Nightfang floated back upward and broke the bubbly surface, shaking the head fur out of his eyes. He spotted Turtleneck, who was nearby and mewed, "Hear it?"

"Yeah. 'Come seek us where our voices sound...' And if I need persuading...wait, I gotta listen again." Nightfang sank back under the surface, and it took three more underwater versions of the egg's song before he had it learnt. Then he paddled around the water for a while, thinking hard, while Turtleneck sat nearby and watched him.

"I gotta go and look for those who can't use their voices above the ground..." he went on slowly. "Who could that be?"

Turtleneck chuckled, "You're one slow cat, aren't you?"

He had never seen the ghostly she-cat look so cheerful, apart from the day when a quantity of Polyjuice Potion gave Fawnwillow the pointed face and naked tail of a rat. Nightfang stared around the bathroom, thinking as water dripped from his whiskers. If the voices could only be heard underwater, then he believed they belong to sea animals. The Maine Coon mix ran this theory past Turtleneck, who smirked at him.

"Well, that's what Oakheart thought," she mewed. "He floated there talking to himself for ages about it. Ages and ages...nearly all the bubbles had gone...and so are yours..."

At this, she slipped into the water, paddling over towards him. Nightfang didn't move, seeing that her fur wasn't getting wet at all. Being a ghost, of course, she could stay afloat all she liked.

"Wait a minute..." Nightfang swam a bit away from her. "Since it's underwater...hey Turtleneck? What lives in the bay besides the sperm whale?"

She got out of the pool and replied, "Oh, all sorts of animals. I sometimes go down there...even if I don't have any choice if someone flushes my toilet when I'm not expecting it."

Trying not to think about her zooming down a pipe to the bay with...certain stuff too much for a Rated T FanFic, Nightfang meowed, "Well, does anything in there have a cat voice? Wait..." His green eyes had fallen on the picture of the snoozing dolphin on the wall and rasped, "Wait...are there dolphins there?"

"Very good," Turtleneck replied, her big eyes twinkling. "You're faster than Oakheart; he took longer than that! And that was with her awake too..." She jerked her head towards the dolphin with a look of dislike on her glum face. "Giggling and showing off and flashing her fins..."

"That's it," Nightfang rasped excitedly. "The second mission's to go and find the dolphins in the lake and...wait a minute..."

He stopped, for he realized what he was saying, feeling the excitement disappear as if his belly was drying up. He wasn't much of a good swimmer; he never had much practice, though he had seen Labrador retrievers swimming in pools). Tubby had lessons when he was young (although he gave up quickly), but Tulip and Bristle, hoping that Nightfang would drown one day, didn't give him any. A couple laps in this bath were good enough, but the bay was very large...and very deep...and dolphins would surely be swimming around right now.

"Hey Turtleneck?" he mewed slowly. "How am I supposed to breathe underwater?"

But as soon as he meowed this, Turtleneck's eyes filled with tears again. "Thoughtless!" she muttered, wiping at her face with a forepaw.

"What? What's thoughtless?" Nightfang asked, puzzled.

"Talking about breathing in front of me!" she cried shrilly, and her voice echoed loudly around the bathroom. "When I can't...when I haven't...not for ages..."

She laid down on the ground, buried her face into her forepaws, and sniffed loudly. Nightfang recalled how sensitive Turtleneck was about being dead, but none of the other ghosts he knew was bothered about it. So he meowed impatiently, "Sorry, Turtleneck. I just forgot."

Turtleneck gulped and looked at him from watery eyes. "Oh yes, very easy to forget I'm dead! Nobody missed me even when I was alive; it took them hours to find my body! I know, I was sitting there waiting for them. Olivepad Hornby came into the bathroom asking 'Are you in here again, Turtleneck? Russetstar asked me to look for you.' And then she saw my body. Oh, she didn't forget it until her dying day, I made sure of that. I even followed her around and reminded her. I remember at her brother's wedding ceremony..."

But Nightfang didn't listen, for he was thinking about the dolphin song again. _"__We've taken what you'll sorely miss." It sounds like they're gonna steal something of mine, something I have to get back. What're they going to take?_

"...and then, of course, she went to the Government to stop me stalking her, so I had to come back here and live in my toilet. I've been here ever since."

"That's nice. That's interesting," Nightfang muttered vaguely. "Well, I'm a lot further on this now. Hey Turtleneck, can you look away again? I'm getting out."

So he retrieved the egg from the bottom of the bath, climbed out, shook the water from his fur, and dried himself with the towel he brought along. Noticing some of the water still on his pelt, he shook himself like a dog some more until he was completely dry.

As he picked up the Invisibility Pelt, Turtleneck asked mournfully, "Will you come visit me in my bathroom again sometime?"

Nightfang thought he would only visit if every other toiler in the castle was block. But not wanting to hurt her feelings, he mewed, "Er...I'll try. I might not visit as much as I used to, but I might try and come over. See ya later, Turtleneck...and thanks for your help."

"See ya," she replied gloomily, and he saw her zoom back up the tap. Then he put the Pelt over him and finally padded out of the bathroom.

In the dark hall, Nightfang examined the map to check that the coast was still clear. The dots that were Oscar and Mr. Sniffer were safely in their office; nothing else seemed to be moving apart from the Joker, though he was bouncing around the trophy room on the floor above. Nightfang had taken his first step back to LionClan Tower when something else on the map quickly caught his eye...something odd.

The Joker wasn't the only thing that was moving. A single dot was flitting around a room in the bottom left corner: Brokenfang's office. But the dot wasn't even labeled "Brokenfang Snape"...it was Crouchfoot Crouch.

Shocked, Nightfang stared at the dot. _I thought Crouchfoot was too sick to go to work or to come to the Yule Ball? So why's he sneaking into the castle at one in the morning?_

He watched closely as the dot moved around and around the room, pausing here and black cat hesitated, thinking...and then his curiosity won over. He turned and padded towards the opposite direction toward the nearest staircase to see what Crouchfoot was up to.

Nightfang prowled down the stairs as quietly as he could, though the faces in some portraits still turned curiously at the squeak of a tile, the rustling of his pelt. He crept along the corridor below, pushed aside a drapery, and proceeded down a narrower staircase, a shortcut that could take him down two floors. He kept glancing at the map, wondering about what was going on.

_This doesn't seem right,_ Nightfang thought with a frown. _Why would a law-abiding cat like Crouchfoot be sneaking around somebody else's office this late at night?_

And halfway down the staircase, obsessed with the peculiar behavior of Crouchfoot, Nightfang's left foreleg suddenly sank right through the step Toadfall always forgot to jump. He gave a very clumsy wobble, and the wet golden egg slipped from under his chin. He staggered forward to try and catch it, but it was too late; the egg fell down the long staircase with a loud bang on every step. The Invisibility Pelt slipped a bit, and Nightfang snatched at it, and the Marauder's Map fluttered out of his jaws and slid down six stairs, where he couldn't reach it.

The golden egg fell through the tapestry at the bottom of the staircase, burst open, and began wailing loudly in the corridor below. Nightfang flicked his tail-wand and struggled to touch the Marauder's Map and to wipe it blank, but it was too far away to reach. Pulling the Pelt back over himself he sat up, listening hard with his eyes screwed up with fear. And, almost instantly...

"JOKER!" It was Oscar's hunting yowl. Nightfang heard his rapid shuffling footsteps coming nearer and nearer, his wheezy voice raised in fury as he hissed, "What's this clamor? Wake up the whole castle, will you? I'll have you, Joker, I'll have you! You'll...what's this?"

The footsteps halted, and there was a clink of metal on metal as the wailing stopped; Oscar had just picked up the egg and closed it. Nightfang stood as still as a stone, one foreleg still jammed tightly in the magical step, listening. Any moment, Oscar would pull aside the drapery, expecting to see the Joker...and there would be no Joker. But if he came up the stairs, he would spot the Marauder's Map. Invisibility Pelt or not, the map would show "Nightfang Potter" standing just where he was.

"Egg?" Oscar rasped quietly at the foot of the stairs. Then he meowed (apparently talking to Mr. Sniffer), "My friend, this is a Tri-warrior clue! This belongs to a school guardian!"

Nightfang felt bile rise up in his throat, his heart hammering. Then...

"JOKER!" Oscar roared elatedly. "You've been stealing!"

He ripped back the drapery below, and Nightfang saw his horrible flat face and bulging eyes staring up the dark and (to Oscar) deserted staircase. The brown tom hissed softly, "Hiding, are you? I'm going to get you for this, Joker. You've gone and stolen a Tri-warrior clue. Silverstar will kick you out for this, you filthy stealing specter..."

Oscar started to climb up the stairs, his scrawny ferret at his heels. Mr. Sniffer's lamp-like eyes, like his master's, were fixed directly upon Nightfang, who had wondered before whether the Invisibility Cloak worked on ferrets or not. Sick with worry, he watched Oscar drawing nearer and tried to a great extent to pull his trapped leg free, but it merely sank a few more inches. Any second now, Oscar was going to spot the map or walk right into him.

"Oscar? What in StarClan's name is going on?"

Oscar stopped a few steps below Nightfang and turned. At the foot of the stairs was the only cat who could make the situation even worse: Brokenfang. He was wearing a gray nightcap on his head, but he looked livid.

"It's the Joker, sir," Oscar whispered wickedly. "He threw this egg down the stairs."

Brokenfang prowled up the stairs quickly and stopped beside Oscar. Nightfang sank his claws into the floor, convinced his thumping heart would give him away soon. Then Brokenfang looked at the egg at Oscar's paws and growled softly, "Joker, you say? I mean, he couldn't get into my office."

Oscar stared at him. "This egg was in your office, sir?"

"Of course not, frog-brain," Brokenfang snapped. "I heard lots of banging and wailing from around here."

"Yes, sir, it was the egg."

"I was coming to investigate, and there it was."

"The Joker threw it."

Brokenfang snarled, "And when I passed my office, I saw that the torches were lit and a door in the storeroom was open! Somebody has been searching it!"

Oscar tried again, "But sir, the Joker couldn't-"

"I know he couldn't!" the dark tabby snapped again. "I sealed my office with a spell no one else but a warrior cat could break! I want you to come along and help me find the burglar, Filch."

"I...yes, sir, but..."

The brown tom looked wistfully up the stairs, right through Nightfang, who could see that he was very unwilling to sacrifice the chance of cornering Joker. He sank his claws even more into the floor, begging for Oscar to go with Brokenfang. Mr. Sniffer was peering around his master's shoulders, and Nightfang guessed he could smell him.

_Why did I fill that bath with so much foam?_

Oscar began lamentingly, "The thing is...Silverstar will have to listen to me this time. The Joker has been stealing from an apprentice, and it might be my only chance to get that demon thrown out of the castle once and for all!"

Brokenfang spat, "To Hell with that worthless ghost! It's my office that's-"

_Clunk, clunk, clunk._

He stopped talking very suddenly as he and Oscar both looked down at the bottom of the stairs. Nightfang saw Mad-Eye Moody limp into sight through the narrow gap between their heads. The dark gray tom was wearing his old traveling cape and leaning on his staff in his jaws as usual.

"So...you kits are having a slumber party, eh?" he growled up the stairs.

"Brokenfang and I heard noises, sir," Oscar rasped at once. "The Joker's been throwing things around as usual, and then he discovered that someone had broken into his off-"

"Shut up!" Brokenfang hissed, cuffing him on his ears.

Mad-Eye took a step closer to the foot of the stairs. Nightfang saw the magical eye travel over Brokenfang, and then, clearly, onto himself, forcing his heart to give a horrible jolt to recall this: he could see through Invisibility Pelts. He alone could see the full strangeness of Brokenfang and Oscar hanging around, himself in the middle of it all. For a few seconds, he and Nightfang stared straight into each other's eyes, neither one saying anything.

Then Mad-Eye turned his mechanical green eye on Brokenfang again and asked, slowly, "Did I hear that correctly, Snape? Someone broke into your office?"

"It is trivial," Brokenfang meowed coldly.

"Not true," Mad-Eye growled. "It is _very_ vital. Who would want to break into your office?"

"I believe it may be an apprentice," Brokenfang explained with little patience "It has happened ever since 2012. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my private store cupboard. It must be apprentices attempting prohibited concoctions, no doubt..."

Mad-Eye snorted. "Think they were after potion ingredients, eh? Not hiding anything else in your office, I hope?"

Nightfang could see the edge of Brokenfang's face twist into a frustrated snarl. Then he hissed in a soft yet dangerous voice, "You know I'm hiding nothing, Moody, as you've searched my office pretty thoroughly yourself."

"Aura Cat's privilege," Mad-Eye replied, putting on a twisted smile. "And Silverstar already told me to keep an eye on-"

"The leader happens to trust me, in case you haven't noticed," Brokenfang groused through clenched teeth. "I refuse to believe that he gave you instructions to search my office!"

Mad-Eye growled back at him, "Of course he trusts you. He's a trusting cat...believes in second chances. But _I_ say there are spots that don't come off that easily, Snape. In fact, there are some specific pots that _never_ come off, you know what I mean?"

Then suddenly...Brokenfang did something very strange. He bent his head down and started licking at the fur on his left foreleg as if licking blood from a battle wound. Perhaps it was a mosquito or something...but then again, mosquitos couldn't survive in cold weather.

"I see," Mad-Eye snorted with a chuckle. "Now get your greasy monkey ass back to bed, Snape."

Brokenfang lifted his head up. "You have no authority to send me anywhere! I have as much right to prowl this school at night as you do!"

The dark gray tom meowed, his voice full of menace, "Well then, please do. Prowl away. I sure look forward to meeting you in a dark hall soon. And by the way, you've dropped something."

Horror stabbing into his mind, Nightfang saw Mad-Eye flicking a paw at the Marauders Map, still lying on the staircase six steps below. As Brokenfang and Oscar turned around to look at it, he threw caution to the winds and poked his whiskers out from under the Pelt, wriggling them furiously at Mad-Eye to attract his attention and mouthing "It's mine!"

At that moment, Brokenfang reached out for it, a horrible look of dawning realization on his face. But then... _"__Accio Paper!"_

The map flew up into the air, slipped through Brokenfang's paw, and soared down the stairs into Mad-Eye's jaws. The Manx mix meowed calmly through his mouthful of map, "Sorry about that. It's mine; must've dropped it earlier."

But Brokenfang's narrowed eyes were darting from the egg at Oscar's paws to the map in Mad-Eye's jaws, and Nightfang saw that he was putting two and two together. That meant he had found the culprit he was trying to frame for this:

"Potter," he meowed quietly.

"Eh?" Mad-Eye asked calmly, folding up the map and putting it in the bag on his neck.

"Potter!" Brokenfang snarled, turning his head and stared at the place where Nightfang was as if he could suddenly see him. "That egg is Potter's egg! That paper belongs to him! I have seen it before, I recognize it! Potter is here in his Invisibility Pelt!"

Before Nightfang could move, the dark tabby began pawing at the air as if he was blind and began to move up the stairs. Nightfang could have sworn his nostrils were dilating, trying to sniff Nightfang out...he was trapped. The Maine Coon mix leaned backward, trying to avoid his claws, but any moment now, he would...

"There's nothing there!" Mad-Eye called, stepping forth. "But if you want, I can tell the leader how quickly your mind suddenly jumped to Nightfang Potter!"

Brokenfang turned to him. "Meaning what?"

Mad-Eye limped nearer still to the stairs. "Meaning that Silverstar's interested to know who's got it in for that boy! As am I, Snape...as am I..."

The lamplight flashed across his distorted face, so the scars looked deeper and darker than ever. Brokenfang was looking down at Mad-Eye, and Nightfang couldn't see the look on his face. For a chilling moment, nobody moved or said anything. Then Brokenfang slowly started to climb back down the stairs.

"I merely thought..." Brokenfang replied in a voice of forced calm, "...that if Potter was roving around at night again...it's a very unfortunate habit of his...then he should be stopped. For...his own safety, you know."

"Ah..." Mad-Eye replied softly. "Got Potter's best interests at heart, have you?"

There was another chilly pause. The two toms were still staring at each other, Mr. Sniffer looked around and gave a hiss, still peering around and looking for the source of the bubble-bath scent.

Finally, Brokenfang stepped back and mumbled curtly, "I think I better go back to sleep."

Mad-Eye snorted. "You know, that's the best idea you've had tonight. And Oscar, hand over that egg..." he told the brown-furred custodian.

"No!" Oscar hissed, herding the egg closer to his legs like it was his firstborn kit. "Don't you see?! This egg here is proof of the Joker's treason!"

"But it's the property of the guardian he stole it from," Mad-Eye explained as calmly as he could. Now hand it over. Come on."

Brokenfang stalked downstairs and passed Mad-Eye without another word. Oscar gave a small chirping noise to Mr. Sniffer, who stared at Nightfang for a few more seconds before turning and following her master. Still panting, Nightfang heard Brokenfang stalk away down the hallway as Oscar surrendered the egg and left too, muttering to his ferret.

"Never mind, Sniffer," he was muttering to him. "We'll see the leader in the morning, and we can tell him what the Joker was up to..." And at this, a door slammed.

Nightfang was left staring down at Mad-Eye, who placed his staff on the bottom stair and started to climb arduously toward him, a dull clunk on every other step. "Close shave, sonny," the dark gray tom muttered.

"...thanks," Nightfang mewed weakly.

"What is this?" Mad-Eye asked, drawing the Marauder's Map out of his bag and unfolding it.

Nightfang hoped he would pull him out of the staircase soon; his leg was hurting him. "It's a map of the Forest castle."

Mad-Eye stared down at the map in shock, his magical eye going haywire. "Merlin's beard," he rasped. "This...this is one amazing map!"

"Yeah, it's...it's really useful," Nightfang panted as his eyes watered from the pain. "Um...sir? Can you help me out of here?"

"What? Oh yes...yes, of course..."

So Mad-Eye grabbed Nightfang by the scruff and pulled. The latter's hind leg came free of the trick step, and he climbed onto the one above it. Nightfang stretched his hind leg, feeling the slight pain but feeling relief at the same time.

Mad-Eye was still gazing at the map, muttering, "Potter...did you happen, by any chance, see who or what broke into Snape's office? On this map?"

Nightfang nodded and admitted, "Er...yeah. It was Crouchfoot Crouch."

"Crouch?!" Mad-Eye's magical eye whizzed over the entire map as he looked suddenly alarmed. "You're...are you sure, Potter?"

"Positive."

The magical eye still whizzed over the map as its owner mumbled, "Well, he's not here now. Crouch...well, that's very...interesting..."

He said nothing for more or less a minute, still staring at the map. Nightfang could tell that this news meant something important to Mad-Eye and wanted to know what it was. He wondered whether he dared ask, for Mad-Eye still scared him slightly...yet he had just helped him avoid an awful lot of trouble. Not to mention that he had helped scare Iceheart into behavior.

"Mad-Eye?" he asked. "Why do you think Crouchfoot wanted to look into Brokenfang's office?"

The magical eye had just left the map and fixed, quivering, upon Nightfang. It was a powerful glare, and the young British Shorthair mix had the impression that Mad-Eye was sizing him up, wondering if he should answer him or not or how much to tell him.

Finally, Mad-Eye meowed, "Put it this way Potter. They say I'm obsessed with catching Dark warrior cats...but I'm _nothing_ compared to Crouchfoot Crouch." At this, he turned away and continued to stare down at the map.

Desiring to know more, Nightfang asked, "Sir? You think...could this have anything to do with...well, Crouchfoot thinks there's something going on."

"Like what?"

Nightfang stopped, wondering how much he should even dare to say. He didn't want Mad-Eye to guess that he had information outside the Forest; that could lead to questions about Padfoot. So, with a determined mind, he decided he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"I don't know," Nightfang replied. "There's been some odd stuff happening lately. It's been in the Daily Warrior...you know, the Dark Mark at the AirBall World Trophy, and all the Demon Cats and everything..."

Both of Mad-Eye's uneven eyes widened while the magical one wandered back to the map. "You're a sharp one, Potter. Crouch could be thinking along those lines. You know, there's been some funny rumors flying around lately...helped by Skeeter, of course. It's making most of the Warrior World nervous, I figure." A sly grin twisted his crooked mouth as he added more to himself than to Nightfang, "If there's one thing I hate more than curses, it's a Demon Cat who walks free...and now I want to ask you a question Potter," he went on in a businesslike tone.

Hearing this made Nightfang's heart sink; he knew this was coming. Mad-Eye was going to ask where he got this map, which was a very suspicious magical object. He would ask for the story of how it had fallen into his possession, but his own father, the twins, and Wolfclaw Lupin, their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts mentor. And then...

"Can I borrow this?"

Nightfang gave a chirp of surprise. He was very fond of his map and was unwilling to give it up that easily. But on the other paw, he was relieved that Mad-Eye didn't ask where he got it, and there was no doubt that he owed him a favor. Plus, he could get the map back later.

"Um...sure."

"Good boy," Mad-Eye growled in an appreciative way. "I can make good use of this...this might be exactly what I've been looking for...but I'll be borrowing this just for a while. Bedtime, Potter, come on now..."

The two cats climbed to the top of the stairs together, Mad-Eye still inspecting the map as if it was a treasure map, one which he had never seen before. They prowled in silence to the door of the Defense Against The Dark Arts office, where he stopped and looked up at Nightfang. "Hey Potter. You ever thought of a career as an Aura Cat?" he finally asked.

Stunned, Nightfang mewed, "...no."

"You might want to consider it. It's a very advantageous career," Mad-Eye replied, looking at him thoughtfully. "And while we're on the subject...I'm guessing you weren't just taking the egg for a moonhigh stroll?"

"No," Nightfang meowed, grinning. "I've been working out the clue at last."

Mad-Eye winked at him, his magical eye spinning again. "Good chap. Nothing wrong with a nightly walk to give you some ideas, Potter. See you in the morning."

He went back into his office, staring down at the map again, and closed the door.

Once he was gone, Nightfang padded slowly back to the den room, thinking about Brokenfang and Crouchfoot and what it all meant. Why was Crouchfoot pretending to be in poor health, if he could get to the Forest when he wanted to? What did he think Brokenfang was hiding in his office? And even old Mad-Eye thought he, Nightfang himself, should be an Aura Cat!

_Interesting...but still,_ Nightfang thought as he got quietly into his nest ten minutes later, the egg and the Pelt now safely back in his trunk. _I'll check how scarred the rest of them are before I choose it as a career. I don't wanna turn out to be another Mad-Eye._

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat13: Here we are at the end of the chapter. Sorry about taking so long.**

**Hermione: Oh, it's fine. Besides, there's not a lot of scenes of the prefect's bathroom in the movie, are there?**

**AvatarCat13: Sadly, no. But the next chapter can contain a few...but due to the movies and books being slightly different, I'll have to mix that chapter as I go along. But anyways, you wanna say the disclaimer thing, Hermione?**

**Hermione: Of course I will. (To the readers) You all know what to do, right? Just read and review this chapter! Those who do will receive a virtual plush doll of a Dachshund since his dog's puppies are three weeks old now. Flames are not welcome here, but we DO allow advice, questions, and constructive criticism as long as it's not harsh.**

**AvatarCat13: One more thing. Since it's gonna be a year since The Legend Of Korra came out (and Book 2 MIGHT occur this month), we will also send you a virtual plush doll or figurine of your favorite LOK character when you review.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	26. The Second Mission

**AvatarCat13: Hey there, everyone! Once again, the Golden Trio are away for some time, but I have no idea where they're at. So for today, Katara will be helping out once again.**

**Katara: (Comes into the room and hugs him) Hey Avatar Cat! I've heard you turned 20 last Sunday. Happy late Birthday!**

**AvatarCat13: (Hugs her in return) Thanks, Katara. As usual, you're a really good friend. By the way, have you read my first true lemon recently? Kataang Island Adventure?**

**Katara: Actually, I HAVE read it. And you know...I really liked it! Of course it didn't really happen for Aang and I, but it was really nice. But anyways, can I say the disclaimer for this chapter? (AvatarCat13 nods) Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: AvatarCat13 does not and never will own Warrior Cats or Harry Potter. They belong to Erin Hunter**

**Uploading Date: May 6, 2013**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Second Mission**_

"Didn't you say you already had it figured out?" Fawnwillow meowed indignantly. "The second mission is a few days away now!"

"I just gotta tweak it," Nightfang hissed snappily. "And I didn't know it was only days away!"

He and his friends were at the back of the Charms class. They were practicing the reverse of the Summoning Charm today...the Banishing Charm. And yes, there was the potential for nasty accidents when objects kept flying across the classroom. Shortlegs had given each cat a pile of pillows on which to practice, the theory being that these wouldn't hurt anyone if they went off target. It was a good concept, but it didn't work too well. Toadfall's aim was so poor that he kept sending much heavier things flying across the room...like Shortlegs, for instance.

As Shortlegs whizzed resignedly past them and landed on a large cabinet, Nightfang hissed, "Just forget the egg for a minute. I'm trying to tell you about Brokenfang and Mad-Eye."

This class was a perfect cover for a private chat, as everyone was having too much fun to pay any attention to them. Nightfang had recounted his exploits of the previous night in whispered parts for the last half hour.

"So he says Mad-Eye searched his office as well?" Redstone whispered, his blue eyes blazing with interest as he Banished a pillow with his tail-wand...but it soared into the air and knocked Daisystem down. "You think Mad-Eye's here to keep an eye on Brokenfang and Coldstar?"

"I don't know if that's what Silverstar told him to do, but he's doing it," Nightfang muttered, waving his tail-wand so that his pillow did an odd flip off the desk. "Mad-Eye said Silverstar lets Brokenfang stay here because he's giving him a second chance or something."

Redstone gaped at him as his next pillow spun high in the air and flew into the chandelier. "What? You know...Moody thinks Snape put your name in the Goblet of Fire!"

Fawnwillow shook her head skeptically. "Redstone, we thought Brokenfang was trying to kill Nightfang before, but he was saving him, remember?" At this, she Banished a cushion, and it flew across the room and landed in the box they were all aiming at.

Nightfang looked over at her, thinking. Brokenfang DID save him once, but he definitely hated him just like he hated Nightfang's father when they were at school together. The dark brown tabby tom loved taking points from him and always seized a chance to give him punishments or even suggest that he should be suspended from the school.

"I don't care what Mad-Eye says," Fawnwillow went on. "Silverstar's no mouse-brain. He trusts Badgerstripe and Wolfclaw, even though many cats wouldn't have given them jobs. So why the hell shouldn't he be right about Brokenfang even if he's a bit..."

"Evil," Redstone added. "And why were these Dark warrior catchers searching his office?"

But Fawnwillow ignored him. "And why did Crouchfoot pretend to be ill? It's weird that he can't come to the Yule Ball, but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to?"

Redstone sent a cushion soaring into the window and retorted, "You just don't like Crouchfoot because of Twinkies."

"And _you_ just want to think Brokenfang's up to something," Fawnwillow bit back, sending her cushion zooming neatly into the box.

"_I_ just want to know what he did with his first chance if he's on his second one," Nightfang mewed grimly, and his cushion flew across the room and landed neatly on top of Fawnwillow's. This surprised him for a bit.

When Redstone left for a break, Nightfang looked over at Fawnwillow and mewed, "I think Earthclaw's figured this mission out now."

Fawnwillow shrugged. "I don't know; we didn't actually talk about the tournament. Actually,

we didn't really talk at all; Earthclaw's more of a doer than a thinker. I just mean he's not mainly a...well, he mostly watches me study...and to tell you the truth, it's getting annoying. You ARE trying to figure this egg out, aren't you?" she added, her amber eyes narrowing.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean these missions are supposed to test you; in the most brutal way, they're almost harsh. And Nightfang..." She looked into his eyes. "We're scared for you, Redstone and I. You got by the dragon mostly on courage, but I'm not sure it's going to be enough this time."

Thus, obedient to Padfoot's wish of hearing about anything odd at school, Nightfang sent him a letter by hawk owl that night, telling him about Crouchfoot breaking into the potion cupboard and the chat between Brokenfang and Mad-Eye. Then Nightfang thought about his most urgent problem: how to survive underwater for an hour on February twenty-fourth.

Redstone liked the idea of using a Summoning Charm again. Nightfang had explained about Aqua-Lungs, and he couldn't see why he shouldn't Summon one from the nearest Twoleg town. But Fawnwillow crushed this plan by saying that, in the unlikely event that Nightfang DID learn how to operate an Aqua-Lung within an hour, he was sure to be barred for breaking the Global Code of Warrior Privacy. It was too much to hope that no Twolegs would spot an Aqua-Lung zooming across the landscape to the Forest.

"The perfect solution would be for you to Transfigure yourself into a submarine or something," Fawnwillow explained. "If only we did feline Transfiguration already! But we start that in sixth year, and it can go wrong if you don't know what you're doing."

"Yeah, I wouldn't like walking around with a periscope sticking out of my head or fins in my side," Nightfang chuckled. "I suppose I could always attack someone in front of Mad-Eye; he might do it for me."

Fawnwillow looked at him seriously. "I don't think he'll let you choose what you wanted to be, though. So I think your best chance is some sort of charm."

Thinking that he would have had enough of the library to last him a lifetime, he read through the dusty volumes, looking for a spell that could let a cat survive without oxygen. However, though he and his friends searched through their breaks and Nightfang asked Thistleheart for permission to use the Restricted Section, and even asked the irritable librarian for help, they found nothing that would let him spend an hour underwater and stay alive.

Familiar panic was starting to disturb Nightfang, and he found it hard to focus in class again. The sea, which Nightfang always took for granted as just another Forest feature, drew his eyes every time he was near a classroom window, a great iron-gray mass of water. Its dark and icy depths were starting to seem as distant as the moon and stars.

Just like before he faced the Horntail, time was slipping away as if somebody hexed the clocks to go fast. There were seven days to go before February the twenty-fourth...then three more days. With two days left, Nightfang began fasting again. The one good thing about breakfast on this Monday was the return of the owl he sent to Padfoot. He pulled off the letter, unrolled it, and saw the shortest letter his godfather had ever written to him.

_Send date of next Village weekend by return owl._

Nightfang turned the parchment over and looked at the back, hoping to see something else, but it was blank. After reading it, Fawnwillow meowed, "_Weekend after next_. Here...take my quill and send the owl back on the double."

So the black tom scribbled the dates down on the back of Padfoot's letter, tied it onto the owl's leg, and watched it fly off again. _What did I expect? Advice on how to breathe underwater?_ But he had been so intent on telling Padfoot all about Brokenfang and Mad-Eye that he had forgotten to mention the egg's clue.

"What does he want to know about the next Village weekend for?" Redstone asked.

"Search me," Nightfang replied dully. The brief joy that flared in his heart at the sight of the owl had died down. "Come on. We got Care of Other Animals class."

So they went down to the class.

It was possible that Badgerstripe was trying to make up for the skrewts, or because there were now two left, or because he was trying to prove he could do anything that Briarberry could. He didn't know, but the gamekeeper had continued her lessons on unicorns ever since he returned to work. It turned out that Badgerstripe knew as much about unicorns as he did about monsters, though he found their lack of toxic fangs disappointing.

Today, though, he had captured two unicorn foals. Unlike fully-grown unicorns, they looked like zebra foals with little horns and golden hooves. Daisystem and Browntuft went into outbursts of delight at the sight of them, and even Pugface had to cover how much she liked them.

"They're easier ter spot than the adults," Badgerstripe told the cats. "They turn silver when they're abou' two years old, and they grow horns at around four. Don't go pure white till they're full grown, 'round about seven. They're a bit more trustin' when they're foals, and they don't mind males as much as females. C'mon, move in a bit. Yeh can pat 'em if yeh want...give 'em a few sugar lumps. Yeh okay, Nightfang?" he added in a whisper, moving away slightly while the others swarmed around the foals.

"Yeah," Nightfang lied.

Badgerstripe looked down at him. "Just nervous, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Let me tell yeh somethin' kid," Badgerstripe meowed, clapping a massive paw on his shoulder so that his legs buckled under its weight. "I've been worried before I saw yeh fight that Horntail, but I know now yeh can do anythin' yeh set yer mind ter as long as yeh got faith. I'm not worried at all. Yeh're gonna be fine. Got yer clue worked out?"

Nightfang nodded, but even as he did so, a crazy urge to confess that he didn't know how to breathe in the sea for an hour came over him. He looked up at Badgerstripe; perhaps he went into the sea sometimes to deal with the plants and animals in it? He looked after everything else on the grounds, after all, so this couldn't be different.

"Yeh're gonna win this," Badgerstripe growled softly, patting his shoulder again as Nightfang felt himself sink into the soft ground. "I know yeh can. I can feel it. Yeh're gonna win!"

Hearing this, Nightfang couldn't bring himself to wipe the happy, confident smile off his giant friend's face. Pretending he was interested in the unicorn foals, he forced a smile in return, and moved off to caress them with the others.

...

By the evening before the second mission, Nightfang felt like he were trapped in a nightmare. He knew that even if he managed to find a proper spell, he would have a real job learning it during the night. This made him feel a bit hopeless at this.

_How could I let this happen?_ he thought. _Why didn't I get to work on the clue sooner?__Why did I let my mind wander in class...and what if a mentor once mentioned how to breathe underwater?_

He sat with his friends in the library as the sun set outside, tearing busily through pages of spells, hidden from one another by the piles of books on the desk in front of them. Nightfang's heart gave a vast leap when he saw the word "water" on a page, but it was usually "Take two pints of water, half a pound of shredded mandrake leaves, and a frog."

"I don't think it's possible," Redstone sighed flatly from the other side of the table. "There's nothing in there. The closest was the Drought Charm that dries up puddles and ponds, , but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the sea."

"There's gotta be something in there," Fawnwillow muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her orange eyes were so tired she was poring over the tiny print of Old and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms with her nose about a kitten-step away from the page. "They've never have had to set a mission that was undoable."

Redstone replied, "They did. And Nightfang, just go down to the sea tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the dolphins to give back whatever they've stolen, and see if they fling it outta there. It's the best you can do, buddy."

Fawnwillow hissed, "There's a way of doing it! It's so obvious! There's gotta be a way!" She seemed to take the library's lack of useful info on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before.

"I know what I should've done," Nightfang sighed, laying a paw on Sassy Tricks for Tricky Sorts. "I should've learned to be an Animagus like Padfoot."

"Yeah, you could turned into a fish any time you wanted!" Redstone purred.

Nightfang yawned, exhausted. "Yeah...or a frog."

"It'll take years to become an Animagus, and then you have to register yourself and everything," Fawnwillow meowed vaguely, reading through the index of Weird Warrior Problems and Their Solutions. "Thistleheart told us last year. You gotta register yourself with the Improper Use of Magic Office like what animal you become and your markings so you can't abuse it..."

"I was just kidding," Nightfang yawned wearily. "I know I don't have a chance of turning into a frog by tomorrow morning."

"Hm...never mind," Fawnwillow sighed, snapping shut the book. "And about those clues...it's obvious that you have to search for that something in the sea. Although I have to admit that it'll be potentially problematic..."

Nightfang stared at her. "Potentially problematic? Fawnwillow, when was the last time you had to breath underwater?"

"We can do it," Redstone meowed. "Seriously, there's nothing we can't do!"

"Hate to break up this scholar session, but Thistleheart would like to see you in her office." It was Mad-Eye who had appeared before them. As they started to get up, the dark gray tom meowed, "Not you, Potter, just Weasley and Granger."

The two mentioned cats stared at Nightfang, who felt his belly drop. Was Thistleheart going to scold them for helping? Perhaps she noticed how much they were helping him when he should be working out how to do the mission alone?

"But why?" Fawnwillow asked. "The second mission's tomorrow!"

Mad-Eye replied, "Exactly. Apparently, Potter is well-prepared by now and could get a good night's sleep. Go now! Longbottom!" he called as Toadfall rounded around a tall bookcase. "Why don't you help Potter clean the books up?"

"We'll meet you back in the den room," Fawnwillow told Nightfang as she got up to go with Redstone. Both of them looked very anxious as Redstone added, "Bring as many of those books as you can, okay?"

"Right," Nightfang mewed uneasily before they left the library.

As they cleaned up, Toadfall meowed, "If you're interested in plants, you'd be better off with Gorton's Guide to Herbology. Do you know there's a warrior in Hong Kong whose growing gravity resistant trees?"

Not in the mood for this, Nightfang sighed, "No offense, but I really don't care about plants right now. But if there's something like...a Chinese cabbage or something...that can let me breathe underwater for an hour, then that'll be great."

"I don't know about cabbages..." Toadfall admitted. "But you can use gillyweed. It can help you breathe underwater."

"You're sure about this?"

"Yeah."

"For an hour."

"Most likely."

"Most likely?"

"Well, there's some debate among herbologists about the effects of freshwater versus saltwater."

"You're telling me this before curfew? You're kidding."

Toadfall looked a bit down. "I just wanted to help.

Nightfang rolled his eyes and meowed sarcastically, "Well that makes you a bit better than the other two."

By eight p.m., the librarian had doused all the lamps and came to push the two cats out of the library. Stumbling from the weight of as many books as he could pull on a wagon, Nightfang returned to the LionClan den room, pulled a table into a corner, and continued to read. There was nothing in Madcap Magic for Wacky Warriors, nothing in A Guide to Feudal Magic, not one mention of underwater adventures in An Album of Eighteenth-Century Charms. Heck, there wasn't even one in Nasty Natives of the Deep, or Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to Do with Them Now You've Acted Your Age.

Garfield leapt onto the chair next to him and curled up, snuggling deeply next to him. The den room emptied slowly around Nightfang. Cats kept wishing him good luck for the next morning in cheerful confident voices like Badgerstripe's, all of them apparently induced that he was about to pull off another mighty act like the one he had managed in the first mission. But he couldn't answer them; he just nodded, feeling like there was an acorn stuck in his throat. By moonhigh, he was alone in the room with Garfield. He had searched all the remaining books, and his friends had not come back.

_It's over, Nightfang_, he told himself. _You can't do it. You'll just have to go down to the sea in the morning and tell the judges._

But he imagined himself explaining that he couldn't do it. He saw Graytail's look of round-eyed surprise and Coldstar's satisfied yellow-toothed smirk. He could almost hear Swanflight saying "I knew it; he IS too young; he is only a kit." He saw Iceheart flashing his POTTER STINKS badge at the front of the crowd with a sneer and saw Badgerstripe's sad incredulous face. He knew he couldn't give up now...even if it killed him.

Forgetting that Garfield was next to him, Nightfang sat up, making him jump. The ferret mix hissed angrily as he landed on the floor, gave him an offended look, and stalked away with his tail in the air, but Nightfang ran up the spiral staircase to his dorm. He could grab the Invisibility Pelt and go back to the library, and he would stay there all night if he had to...

_"__Lumos,"_ he whispered fifteen minutes later as he opened the library door.

Tail-wand held up, the black tom crept along the bookshelves, pulling down more books. Books of hexes and charms, books on dolphins and other sea animals, books on famous warriors, books on magical inventions, on anything at all that might include one passing reference to being able to breathe underwater. He carried them to a table and then went to work, searching them by the narrow beam of his tail-wand, occasionally checking the clock.

One in the morning...two in the morning. The only way he could keep going was to tell himself, over and over again, next book...and the next one...and the next one.

...

_The dolphin in the painting in the prefects' bathroom was laughing. Nightfang was bobbing like a cork in bubbly water next to her while she held his Thunderbolt wings over his head._

_"__Come and get it!" she giggled nastily. "Come on, swim over here!"_

_"__I can't!" Nightfang panted, snatching at the wings and trying not to sink. "Give it back!"_

_But she just slapped him painfully in the face with her tail, laughing at him.__ He reeled back, muttering, "__That hurts...get off..."_

"Nightfang Potter must wake up, sir!"

_"__Stop poking me..."_

"Bobby must poke Nightfang Potter, sir! He must wake up!"

Nightfang opened his green eyes. He was still in the library, the Pelt had slipped off his head as he slept, and the side of his face was stuck to the pages of Where There's a Warrior, There's a Way. He sat up, blinking in the bright daylight, and saw Bobby before him. The flying lemur was looking worried and anxious for him.

"Nightfang Potter needs to hurry!" he squeaked. "The second mission starts in ten minutes!"

"Ten minutes?" Nightfang croaked. "Ten...minutes?"

He looked around at the clock and saw with dread that Bobby was right. It was twenty past nine. A large dead weight seemed to fall through Nightfang's chest and into his belly.

Bobby leapt up beside him and started tugging on his tail, squealing, "Hurry, Nightfang Potter, you must hurry! You is supposed to be down by the sea with the other guardians, sir!"

Nightfang mewled hopelessly, "It's too late, Bobby. I can't do the mission. I don't know how..."

"Nightfang Potter _will_ do the mission!" Bobby squeaked. "Bobby knew Nightfang Potter had not found the right book, so Bobby did it for him!"

"What?" Nightfang asked, surprised. "But you don't know what it is."

Bobby nodded. "He knows, sir! Nightfang Potter has to go into the sea and find his Wheezy..."

"Find my _what_?"

"...and take his Wheezy back from the dolphins!"

"What's a Wheezy?"

Bobby started jumping up and down, chanting, "Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy! Wheezy who is giving Bobby his sweater!" He plucked at the shrunken sweater he was now wearing.

Nightfang felt his throat dry up. "They...they got Redstone?"

"The thing Nightfang Potter will miss most, sir!" Bobby squeaked. "'But past an hour...'"

"...'the prospect's black, Too late, it's gone, it won't come back,'" Nightfang recited, staring horror-struck at the lemur. "Oh shit...Bobby, what am I gonna do?"

Bobby put his hand in the pocket of his shorts and drew out a sphere of slimy green rat tails. "You have to eat this right before you goes into the sea, sir. Bobby heard Nightfang Potter's other friend talk about this in Herbology: gillyweed! It will make you breathe underwater, sir!"

Nightfang stared at the gillyweed. He HAD heard Toadfall talk about it before. But he couldn't forget the time Bobby had "helped" him; it almost got him killed. "Bobby..." he mewed swiftly. "Are you sure about this?"

"Quite sure, sir!" Bobby said earnestly. "Bobby hears things, sir, for he is a lemur and he goes all over the castle as he lights the fires and mops the floors. Bobby heard Thistleheart and Mad-Eye in the staffroom, talking about the mission. Nightfang Potter cannot lose his Wheezy!"

Hearing this, Nightfang felt his doubts begin to vanish. Jumping up, he pulled off the Pelt, stuffed it into his bag, grabbed the gillyweed, and put it in his bag. He quickly tore out of the library with Bobby at his heels as the latter began speaking.

Bobby was squeaking as they burst into the corridor, "Bobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir! Good luck, Nightfang Potter, sir, good luck!"

"See you later, Bobby!" Nightfang called, springing along the hall and down the stairs, three at a time. "And thanks!"

The entrance hall contained a few idlers, all leaving the Great Hall after breakfast and heading through the double oak doors to observe the second mission of the tournament. They stared as Nightfang sped past, sending Mousepelt and Volepaw Creevey flying as he leapt down the steps and out onto the bright chilly grounds. The air was cold around him, yet Nightfang only flinched a bit thanks to his thick leaf-bare pelt.

As he ran down the lawn, he saw that the seats that encircled the dragon field in November were now ranged along the bank, rising in stands that were packed and reflected in the sea below. The excited prattle of the crowd echoed strangely across the water as Nightfang ran around the other side of the sea toward the judges, who were sitting at another table at the water's edge. The other guardians were beside the judges' table, watching the fourth guardian sprint toward them.

"I'm...here..." Nightfang panted, landing in the mud and by chance splashing Swanflight's pelt with it. The white she-cat glared at him before muttering a curse in French.

"There you are! The second mission's about to start!"

Sandthorn was sitting at the judges' table, having been the owner of the bossy disapproving voice. Nightfang saw that Crouchfoot had failed to turn up yet again.

"Settle down, Sandthorn!" Graytail purred, looking relieved to see Nightfang. "Let him catch his breath first!"

Silverstar smiled at Nightfang, but Coldstar and Fuzzystar didn't look happy to see him. It was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had hoped he wasn't going to turn up.

Nightfang keeled over a bit, gasping for breath; he had a pain in his side that felt like he had a pair of claws between his ribs, but he couldn't get rid of it. Graytail was now moving among the guardians, spacing them along the bank. He was on the very end of the line, next to Earthclaw, who was barely flinching at the cold weather and gripping the rocks with his claws.

"Are you okay, Nightfang?" Graytail whispered as he moved him a bit farther away from Earthclaw. "You know what you're going to do?"

"Yeah," Nightfang panted.

The gray tom nodded and returned to the judges' table; he pointed his tail-wand at his throat as he did at the AirBall World Trophy. He gave a loud _"Sonorus!"_, and his voice boomed out across the dark seawater toward the stands.

"Welcome, everyone! Welcome to the second mission. Last night, something was stolen from each of our guardians. A treasure. These four treasures now lie on the bottom of the bay. In order to win, each guardian need only find their treasure and return to the surface. It's simple enough. Except, they will have one hour to do so and one hour only. After that, they'll be on their own. So at the start of the cannon, we will begin. One...two...three!"

The cannon boomed loudly through the cold still air; the cats in the stands erupted with cheers and applause. Without looking to see what the other guardians were doing, Nightfang pulled the gillyweed out of his bag, stuffed it into his mouth, and waded out into the shallow water.

It was so cold he felt the skin under the fur on his legs searing as if it was fire he was walking in, not icy water. His soaked fur weighed him down as he waded in deeper; now the water was at his belly, and his rapidly numbing paws were slipping over silt and flat mossy stones. He chewed on the gillyweed quickly, but it felt nastily slimy and elastic like octopus tentacles.

Up to his stomach in the freezing water, he stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to happen. He heard laughter in the crowd and knew he looked foolish, walking into the sea without showing a sign of magical power. Part of him that was still dry was covered in shivers; half deep in the icy saltwater and with a cruel gust lifting his coat, Nightfang started to shiver. He avoided looking at the stands; the laughter got louder, and he heard boos from the ViperClan cats.

Then suddenly...the black cat felt like a big wad of moss was pressed over his muzzle. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head spin; his lungs empty, he suddenly felt a piercing pain on his neck. Nightfang lifted a paw to his neck and felt two slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air...he had gills. Without thinking, he flung himself forth and into the water.

The first gulp of icy water felt like the breath of life. Nightfang felt his head stop spinning; he took another gulp and felt it pass smoothly through his new gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched his paws and stared down at them; they looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed like an otter's. He twisted around and looked at his back paws, and they had also become elongated, the toes webbed too: It looked like he had sprouted flippers on his legs.

The water didn't feel chilly anymore either; in contrast, he felt pleasantly cool and very light. Nightfang struck out again, marveling at how far and fast his flipper-like feet propelled him through the water, and noticing how clearly he could see, and how he no longer seemed to need to blink. Suddenly, he could hear the voices above him and heard Toadfall's voice.

"Oh my StarClan!" he was gasping, his voice sounding ashamed. "I killed Nightfang Potter!"

"You bastard!" another cat called jokingly.

With a deep breath, Nightfang swam up to the surface and, with a powerful kick with his hind legs, burst into the air. Gasps and many cheers erupted in the crowd while Nightfang did a flip in the air before dropping back down into the water. He had soon swum so far into the chilly sea that he could no longer see the bottom. He flipped over away from the surface and dove into the sea's frigid depths.

Silence was on his ears as he paddled over a strange dark foggy landscape. He could only see ten fox-lengths around him, so that as he sped through the water new things loomed suddenly out of the darkness: forests of tangled black seaweed, wide plains of mud littered with dull glimmering stones, and octopi settling well on a rock. He swam deeper and deeper and out towards the center of the bay, his eyes staring through the eerily dim-lit water around him to the shadow beyond, where the water became dense.

Small fish flickered past him like silver arrows. Once or twice, he thought he saw something huge moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he saw that it was just a dirtied log. He couldn't see the other guardians, the dolphins, Redstone...nor, thankfully, the sperm whale.

Light green seaweed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two cat-lengths deep, like a meadow of overgrown grass. Nightfang was gazing ahead of him, trying to distinguish shapes through the gloom...when suddenly, without prior notice, something grabbed his leg. Nightfang looked around and saw a moray eel, a long flesh-eating fish, poking out of the weed, its long teeth sinking into his leg.

Nightfang stuck his webbed paw into the bag on his shoulder to look for his tail-wand. By the time he got it and put it on his tail, two more eels had risen out of the seaweed, seized mouthfuls of his leg, and were attempting to drag him down.

_"__Relashio!"_ Nightfang yowled, but no sound came out. A large bubble rose from his mouth, and his tail-wand, instead of sending sparks at the fish, pelted them with a jet of boiling water, for where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their scaly skin.

He pulled his leg out of the eels' grip and swam off as fast as he could, sometimes sending more jets of hot water at them at random. Every now and then, he felt one of them grab his leg again, and he kicked out, hard. Finally, he felt his claws connect scrap across a skull and, looking back, saw the dead eel floating away while its fellows hissed and sank into their new feast.

Nightfang slowed down and looked around, listening again. He turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing harder than ever against his eardrums. The black cat knew he must be deeper in the bay now, but nothing was moving but the rippling seaweed.

"How are you doing?"

Nightfang could have sworn he was having a heart attack. He whipped around and saw Carping Turtleneck floating hazily in front of him, gazing at him through large pearly eyes.

"Turtleneck!" Nightfang tried to yowl, but once again, nothing came out of his mouth but a very large bubble.

The ghost actually giggled and pointed away, meowing, "You might want to try over there! I can't come with you. I don't like them much; they always chase me when I get too close."

Nightfang gave her a nod to show his thanks and set off once more, careful to swim a bit higher over the weed to avoid more eels that might be lurking there.

He swam on for what felt like twenty minutes. He was passing over vast stretches of black mud now, which swirled dimly as he disturbed the water by paddling. Then, at long last, he heard a snatch of haunting croaky singing.

"_An hour long you_'_ll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took …"_

Nightfang paddled faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of dolphins on it; they were travelling in pods and chasing what looked like a massive hammerhead shark. Then he swam on past the rock, following the song.

"..._your time_'_s half gone, so tarry not_

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot..."_

A cluster of unpolished stone houses blemished with algae loomed suddenly out of the darkness on all sides. Here and there at the windows, Nightfang saw faces that didn't bear any likeness to the painting of the dolphin in the prefects' bathroom. Even in Twoleg cartoons, they were either blue or pink with big blue eyes and loved to play...but these creatures...no.

The dolphin had grayish rubbery skin and long wild dark green hair...possibly wigs. Their eyes were beady and black, and they wore thick ropes of stones around their necks. They leered at the black cat as he swam past; one or two dolphins emerged from their caves to see him better, their powerful tails beating the water and spears clutched in their beaks.

Not wanting to attract attention, Nightfang swam on, staring around, and the dwellings became more numerous. There were weed gardens around some, and he even saw a pet eel tied to a rod outside a door. Dolphins were appearing on all sides now, watching him eagerly and pointing their beaks at his webbed paws and gills, as they started talking to one another. Nightfang sped around a corner, and a very strange sight met his eyes.

A crowd of dolphins was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a dolphin version of a village square. A choir was singing in the middle, calling the guardians to them, and behind them rose a crude statue: a gigantic prehistoric dolphin chopped from a boulder. And he saw them: four cats bound tightly to the tail of the statue.

Redstone was tied between Fawnwillow and Rainleaf. There was also a she-cat who looked no older than eight, whose black-spotted white fur made Nightfang realize that she was Swanflight's little sister. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep, their heads lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept springing from their mouths.

Nightfang paddled towards the hostages, half expecting the dolphins to charge at him, but they did nothing. The weed ropes tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong. For a second, he thought of the knife Padfoot got for him for Christmas: locked in his trunk in the castle miles away, no use to him whatsoever. Now he wished he could have brought it with him just in case.

He looked around quickly. Many of the dolphins that surrounded them were carrying spears in their beaks. He swam swiftly over to a large battle-scarred male with a necklace of shark fangs and tried to mime a request to borrow the spear. The dolphin laughed and shook his head.

"We do not help," he clicked in a harsh chirping voice.

"Move it!" Nightfang snarled fiercely, but only bubbles issued from his mouth. With his teeth, he grabbed hold of the spear and tried to pull it away from the dolphin, but he pushed him back with his head, still shaking his head and laughing. So Nightfang swirled around, staring around.

_Come on, StarClan...give me something sharp...anything..._

There were rocks littering the sea bottom, giving him an idea. He dove down, snatched up a particularly jagged one in his jaws, and returned to the statue. He began to hack at the ropes tying Redstone to the statue, and after several minutes' hard work, they broke apart. The ginger tom floated up, unconscious, a few tail-lengths to a bit below the surface, drifting a little in the receding tide of the water.

Once this was done, Nightfang looked around. There was no sign of any of the other guardians coming to save their hostages. _What the hell are they doing? Why can't they hurry up?_

_There's no other choice._

He looked back at Fawnwillow, picked up the jagged rock, and began to cut at her ties too. Right away, several strong gray beaks began bumping at him from both sides. Half a dozen dolphins were pulling him away from Fawnwillow, shaking their green-wigged heads.

"You take your own hostage," one dolphin croaked, leering at him. "Leave the others."

"No!" Nightfang yowled furiously, but only two large bubbles came out.

"Retrieve your own friend. Leave the others."

Nightfang flicked his tail to Fawnwillow. "She's my friend too!" he spat, a huge silver bubble emerging soundlessly from his lips. "And I'm not gonna let them die either!"

Rainleaf's head was on Fawnwillow's shoulder; the small white she-cat looked pale. Nightfang struggled to fight off the dolphins on his own, but they laughed harder, holding him back with their tails. Nightfang looked wildly around, wondering if he could take Redstone to the surface and come back for Fawnwillow and the others...but he would have to find them again. He tried to see the sun to see what time it was, but it was too blurred under the sea to see the sun properly.

But then the dolphins around him chirped excitedly. Nightfang spun on the spot and managed to see Oakheart swimming toward them. There was an enormous bubble around the golden tabby's head, which made his facial features look wide and stretched.

"Sorry there! I got lost!" he mouthed, looking unnerved. "Swanflight and Earthclaw are on their way now!"

Feeling relieved, Nightfang saw Oakheart unsheathe his claws and cut Rainleaf free with them. He grabbed her by the scruff and swam out of sight.

Nightfang looked around, waiting. Where were Swanflight and Earthclaw at? Time was getting short now, and according to the song, the hostages would be lost after an hour.

All of a sudden, the dolphins started screeching vivaciously. The dolphins surrounding Nightfang backed away from him, staring behind them. Nightfang turned in time to see something huge cutting through the water at them: a brown tabby cat body with the head of a great white shark. It was Earthclaw. He appeared to have transfigured himself...but it went horribly wrong.

The shark-cat swam over to Fawnwillow and began biting at her ropes; the trouble was that his new teeth were positioned very gawkily for biting anything smaller than a seal, and Nightfang was quite sure that if Earthclaw wasn't careful, he was going to tear her in half. Darting forward, he rammed Earthclaw hard on the shoulder and lifted up a paw, unsheathing the claws. He did the same and began to cut Fawnwillow free. Within seconds, he had done it; he moved her onto his shark head and, without a backward glance, began to rise with her toward the surface.

_Now what?_ Nightfang thought desperately. _Swanflight should coming...but she's not._

Abandoning the need for the stone, Nightfang swam over to the cats, scratching at the rope with his claws. But the dolphins now closed in around Redstone and the young she-cat, shaking their heads at him. Nightfang flicked his tail-wand around and swam quickly over to them, yowling, "Get out of the way!"

Only bubbles flew out of his mouth, but he guessed that they understood him, because they had suddenly stopped laughing. Their beady dark eyes were fixed upon Nightfang's tail-wand, and they looked scared now. There were a lot more of them than him, but Nightfang could tell, by the looks on their faces, that they knew no more magic than the sperm whale could.

"Now you've got until the count of three!" Nightfang yowled, holding up a paw to make sure they got the message. "One..." He put down a toe. "Two..." He put down a second one...

...and they fled.

Nightfang swam forward and began to slash at the ropes binding the small she-cat to the statue, and she was free. He seized the young cat around the waist, grabbed Redstone's scruff in his mouth, and kicked off from the bottom.

It was slow work. He could no longer use his webbed forepaws to propel himself forward; he worked his flippered back paws furiously, but Redstone and Swanflight's sister were like rocks dragging him back down. He looked up, though he knew he must still be very deep, and the water above him was so dark.

Just then, dolphins were rising with him. He could see them swirling around him with pure ease, watching him struggle through the water. Would they pull him back down to the depths when the time was up? Did they even eat cats?

His hind legs were falling asleep with the effort to keep swimming, and his broad shoulders were aching horribly with the effort of dragging the others, drawing breath with extreme difficulty. He could feel pain on the sides of his neck again; he was becoming aware of how wet and salty the water was in his mouth. Yet the darkness was thinning now; he could see daylight above him.

He kicked hard with his flippered back paws only to see that they were normal paws. Water was flooding through his mouth and into his lungs, starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were only a few fox-lengths above him. Nightfang kicked his hind legs so hard and fast it felt like his muscles were screaming; his brain felt waterlogged, he couldn't breathe, and he needed oxygen...but he had to keep going.

At last, he felt his head break the surface of the sea; wonderful clear air was making his wet face sting. He gulped the air down, feeling like he was born again, and pulled Redstone and the little she-cat up with him. All around him, narrow beady-eyed heads were emerging out of the water with him, but they were smiling at him.

The crowd in the stands was making a lot of noise, shouting and screaming; they all seemed to be on their paws. Nightfang thought they thought that Redstone and the young cat were dead, but they were wrong. Both of them had opened their eyes, the girl looked scared and confused, but Redstone just coughed a great spout of water and blinked in the bright light.

The ginger tom turned to Nightfang and was meowing "Sure was wet, wasn't it?" when he spotted Swanflight's sister. "What did you bring her for?"

Nightfang panted, "Swanflight didn't turn up. I couldn't leave her."

"Idiot!" Redstone hissed. "You didn't take that song seriously, did you? Silverstar wouldn't have let us drown!"

"The song said-"

Redstone growled, "It was only to make sure you got back inside the time limit!" said Ron. "I hope you didn't waste time down there showing off like a hero!"

Nightfang felt stupid and annoyed. It was fine for Redstone; he was the one who was asleep. He hadn't felt how eerie it was down under the sea, surrounded by spear-carrying dolphins who looked more than capable of murder.

So he meowed, "Come on...help me with her. I don't think she can swim well."

The two toms pulled the white-furred she-cat through the water, back to the bank where the judges stood watching. Twenty dolphins were accompanying them like a guard of honor, singing their strange songs. Nightfang could see Poppyleaf fussing over Fawnwillow, Earthclaw, Oakheart, and Rainleaf, who were all wrapped in thick blankets. Silverstar and Graytail were standing and smiling at Nightfang and Redstone from the bank as they swam nearer, but Sandthorn came splashing out to meet them, looking highly worried.

Meanwhile, Fuzzystar was trying to restrain Swanflight, who was getting frenzied, fighting fang and claw to return to the water. She was screeching with pure worry, "Shimmerkit! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"

"She's fine!" Nightfang gasped, panting so hard that he couldn't talk properly.

Sandthorn seized Redstone by the neck and was dragging him back to the bank ("Get off! I'm okay!"), and Silverstar and Graytail were pulling Nightfang upright. Finally, Swanflight had broken free of Fuzzystar and ran over to her sister, hugging her tightly.

"It was ze eels...zey attacked me. Oh Shimmerkit, I thought..." Swanflight took one look at her sister and held her close to her. "I shall never let you be harmed again..."

"Come here," Poppyleaf meowed, padding over.

The tortoiseshell she-cat nudged Nightfang over to Fawnwillow and the others, wrapped him tightly in a blanket, and forced a measure of hot potion down his throat. Steam gushed out of his ears, and he licked his lips to get the taste off of it.

"Great job!" Fawnwillow cheered. "You did it! You found out how all by yourself! But you must be freezing...you did well." And to his surprise, she gently licked his cheek, something she had never done before.

"But I finished last," Nightfang replied.

Fawnwillow retorted, "Next to last. As I was saying, you did it all by yourself!"

"Well..." Nightfang could have told her about Bobby, but he saw Coldstar watching him. The dark silver tabby was the only judge who had not left the table; the only judge not showing signs of pleasure and relief that the others had gotten back safely. Loudly so that Coldstar could hear him, he called, "Yeah, that's right. I did."

"You haff an ant in your fur, Fawny-willow," Earthclaw rumbled, plucking an ant off of there. Nightfang guessed he was drawing her attention back to himself, perhaps to remind her that he had just rescued her from the sea.

But Fawnwillow went on, "You're outside the time limit, though. Did it really take you that long to find us?"

"No. I found you okay."

His stupidity was growing. Now that he was out of the water, it seemed clear that Silverstar's safety precautions wouldn't permit the death of a hostage just because their guardian wasn't there. Why didn't he just rescue Redstone? Oakheart and Earthclaw hadn't wasted time worrying about anyone else; they hadn't taken the song seriously.

Silverstar was crouching at the water's edge, meowing to what seemed to be the dolphin pod leader, a wild and ferocious-looking female. Instead of meowing, he was making the same screechy noises that the dolphins made when they were above water; Silverstar could actually speak dolphin. He recalled Sandthorn saying that Crouchfoot could talk in the language of other animals, so it must be true for Silverstar.

Finally, he got up, turned to his fellow judges, and meowed, "I think a conference before we give the marks shall be best."

While the judges began their talk, Poppyleaf had gone to rescue Redstone from Sandthorn; she led him over to Nightfang and the others, gave him a blanket and some Peppered Potion, and then went to fetch the French cats. The lynx mix had small scars on her face, and there were rips on her coat, but she didn't seem to care, nor would she allow Poppyleaf to clean them.

"Look after Shimmerkit," she told her before turning to Nightfang. Breathlessly, she rasped, "You saved 'er. She was not your 'ostage, but you saved 'er. Thank you so much."

She licked Nightfang twice on each cheek (he felt his face burn again) and then meowed to Redstone, "And you too...you 'elped your friend..."

"Yeah," Redstone stammered, looking hopeful. "Yeah, a bit..."

So Swanflight swooped down on him too and licked his cheeks too, making him mutter a very breathless "Merci..." Fawnwillow gave a sigh at this, but then Graytail's magically enlarged voice boomed out beside them, making them jump, and caused the crowd to go quiet.

"Everyone, we have reached our decision. The leader of the dolphins, Ariel, has told us what had happened under the sea, and we have decided to award marks out of fifty for each guardian, as follows: Swanflight Delacour, although she proved brilliant use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by moray eels as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

"I deserve zero," Swanflight sighed throatily, shaking her stunning head as cheers erupted.

"Oakheart Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was the first to return to us with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. Therefore, we shall give him forty-seven points."

Enormous cheers erupted from the BadgerClan cats in the crowd. Nightfang saw Rainleaf give Oakheart a glowing look and felt his heart sank. If Oakheart had been outside the time limit, he most certainly had been.

"Earthclaw Krum used an imperfect form of Transfiguration, which was still useful, and was second to return with his hostage. We therefore award him forty points."

Coldstar applauded mostly hard, looking very smug.

Graytail went on, "Nightfang Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the pod leader told us that he was first to reach the hostages, and the delay in his return was due to his willpower to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."

Nightfang saw his friends give him half-exasperated and half-consoling looks and wished they would stop.

"Most of the judges..." Here, Graytail gave Coldstar a very severe look. "...feel that this shows courage and deserves full marks. However...his score is forty-five points."

Nightfang felt his belly leap. He was now tied for first place with Oakheart. Both Redstone and Fawnwillow were caught by surprise, stared at Nightfang, and then started applauding hard with the rest of the crowd.

"There you go, buddy!" Redstone yowled over the noise. "You weren't being stupid! You were just showing courage!"

Swanflight was cheering hard too, but Earthclaw didn't look happy. He attempted to bring Fawnwillow to him again, but she was too busy cheering for him to listen.

"The final mission will take place at sundown on the twenty-fourth of June," Graytail went on. "The four guardians will be informed of what is coming one moon early. Thank you all for your support." Quieting down, he padded over to Nightfang and meowed, "Well done, Nightfang! Fine achievement! I'm sorry we haven't talked; after all, your story is one I've heard many times. Remarkable! Tragic, of course, to lose a family. Never whole again. Still, life goes on. And here we stand. I'm sure your parents would be very proud of you now."

"Graytail!" Mad-Eye had approached. "Not trying to lure Potter into one of the government's greenleaf internships, are we? Last cat who went into the Branch of Mysteries never came out!" Then they both stalked away, Mad-Eye muttering, "And they say I'M mad!"

Still...it was over. As Poppyleaf began herding the guardians and hostages back to the castle to get dried, Nightfang stayed behind. _It's over; I got through this. Now I don't have to worry about anything now until June the twenty-fourth._ He felt much better and padded back up the steps and into the castle, having decided on something.

_Bobby helped me out...along with Toadfall. Next time I go to the Village, I'll buy Bobby a hat for every day of the year._

_To be continued..._

...

**Katara: It's getting good so far. So tell me...did you get any good books from Barnes And Noble recently?**

**AvatarCat13: Yep. I got the first part of the novelization for The Legend Of Korra. And I hope to get the second part of that, The Legend Of Korra Book 1 for the DVD, and even Tallstar's Revenge in July.**

**Katara: Wow. Two things for The Legend Of Korra and a Warrior Cats book in July? And on the month your niece is being born! Are you excited about that?**

**AvatarCat13: (Smiles) You better believe it. So are you planning on saying the review?**

**Katara: Sure. And thanks. (To the readers) Please read and review! Those who do will receive virtual drinks and candy of their choice. We don't allow flames, but we allow advice, questions, and constructive criticism.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	27. Balto Comes Back

**AvatarCat13: I'm gonna hate this chapter, and do you know why? It'll because of Pugface F**kin' Parkinson.**

**Harry: I never liked her at all in my Hogwarts years. She was all loud and no brains. Plus, she always made fun of me and Hermione. And did you know that she led all the Slytherins into singing "Weasley Is Our King?" Plus, she suggested handing me to Voldemort!**

**AvatarCat13: Slow down with the rant there. I agree with you with all of that, but at least you made a heroic sacrifice of your own. Right?**

**Harry: Yeah...but it was for everyone, not me. Now I think we better go on with the disclaimer and get it done with.**

**Disclaimer: AvatarCat13 does not own my series or Warrior Cats. They both belong to J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter, remember that. And if you don't believe me, look up the other disclaimers of this story.**

**Uploading Date: May 18, 2013**

**Both: Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Balto Comes Back**_

One good thing about the result of the second mission was that everybody was very keen to hear details of what had happened down at the bottom of the sea. That meant Redstone was finally getting to share Nightfang's place in the spotlight for once.

Nightfang saw that his version of the story changed subtly with every recapping. At first, he gave what seemed like the truth; it matched Fawnwillow's story: Silverstar put all the hostages into a bewitched sleep in Thistleheart's office, first assuring them that they would be safe and would wake up when they were back on land. But a quarter-moon later, Redstone was telling a rather electrifying tale of abduction in which he struggled alone against fifty wild dolphins who had to beat him into obedience before tying him up.

"But I had my tail-wand hidden on my leg," he assured Roseclaw, who looked a lot livelier on Redstone now that he was getting attention and talking to him every time they passed in the halls. "I could've taken those fish-tailed mouse-brains any time I wanted."

"What were you going to do to them, snore in their faces?" Fawnwillow asked irritably. Cats had teased her so much about being the thing that Earthclaw would most miss that she was in a crabby mood.

Redstone's ears flattened against his head, and then, he returned to the bewitched sleep version.

As they entered March, the weather became drier, but cruel winds still skinned their pelts every time they went out onto the grounds. There were interruptions in the post because the owls kept being blown off course. The owl that Nightfang sent to Padfoot with the dates of the Village weekend turned up at breakfast on Friday morning with half its feathers sticking up the wrong way. Nightfang had no sooner torn off his godfather's reply than it took flight, clearly afraid it would be sent outside again.

Like before, this letter was short.

_Be at stile at end of road out of the Village (past Dervish and Bangles) at two p.m. on Saturday. Bring as much food with you as you can._

"He made it back?" Redstone asked in disbelief.

"It looks like it," Fawnwillow remarked with a grim nod.

Nightfang hissed tensely, "Shit! I can't believe him...if he's caught..."

Redstone replied, "But he made it this far, though. And it's not like the place is swarming with Dementors anymore."

So Nightfang folded up the letter, thinking. If he was honest with himself, he really wanted to see Padfoot again as long as his godfather was safe. He thus came up to the final lesson of the day (double Potions), feeling much more cheerful than he usually did when descending the steps to the dungeons. But what he saw next puzzled him.

Iceheart and his cronies were standing in a knot outside the classroom door with Pugface's mob of ViperClan she-cats. All of them were looking at something Nightfang couldn't see and sniggering heartily. He guessed that something bad was coming around.

Pugface's ugly mug peered around Monkeytail's broad back as the Golden Trio approached. She pointed at the three cats and giggled nastily, and the knot of ViperClan cats broke up. Nightfang saw that the ugly she-cat had a magazine in her jaws: Warrior Weekly. The moving picture on the front showed a tabby cat smiling toothily and wearing a dunce cap on its head.

"Read this, Granger!" Pugface sneered loudly, tossing the magazine at Fawnwillow, who caught it and looked startled. But at that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Brokenfang beckoned them all inside.

Once they were in, the Golden Trio headed for a table at the back of the dungeon as usual. Once Brokenfang turned his back on them to write the ingredients of today's potion on the chalkboard, Fawnwillow hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. At last, in the center pages, she found what they were looking for, and the toms leaned in closer.

A color photograph of Nightfang headed a short piece entitled:

**Nightfang Potter****'****s Secret Heartache**

_A cat like no other, yet suffering the usual pangs of adolescence,_** writes Tansy Skeeter. **_Robbed of love since the tragic death of his parents, fourteen-year-old Nightfang Potter thought he had found comfort in his sturdy mate at the Forest, kittypet-born Fawnwillow Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly suffer another emotive blow in a life littered with personal loss._

_Granger, a plain but ambitious cat, seems to have a taste for famous warriors that Nightfang cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at the Forest of Earthclaw Krum, German Seeker and hero of the last World AirBall Trophy, Granger has been messing with both toms_' _affections._

_Krum, who is openly smitten with the deceitful Granger, has invited her to visit him in Germany over the greenleaf holidays and insists that he has __"__never felt this way about any other she-cat before.__"__However, it might not be Granger__'__s disbelieving natural charms that have captured these unlucky toms__' __interest._

"_She_'_s ugly,_" _Pugface Parkinson, a she-cat at the Forest, told me. _"_But she_'_d be well up to making a Love Potion since she_'_s quite brainy. I think she's done it."_

_Love Potions are banned at the Forest, and no doubt Silverstar Dumbledore will want to examine these claims. In the meantime, Nightfang Potter's supporters must hope that, next time, he gives his heart on a worthier contender._

"See!" Redstone hissed at Fawnwillow as she stared down at the article. "I told you not to annoy Tansy! She's made you out to be some sort of...prostitute!"

Fawnwillow stopped looking surprised and began laughing. "Prostitute?" she repeated, shaking with stifled giggles as she looked around at him.

Redstone shuffled his forepaws. "It's what Mom calls them."

"If that's the best she can do, she'll have to do better than that," Fawnwillow giggled as she threw Witch Weekly onto the empty chair beside her. "It's a load of fox-dung."

She looked at the ViperClan cats, most watching her and Nightfang across the room to see if they distressed them with the article. Fawnwillow just gave them a sarcastic smile and a wave, and she and the two toms started unloading the ingredients needed for their Wit-Sharpening Potion.

Ten minutes later, Fawnwillow held her pounder over a bowl of stag beetles. She muttered, "There's something fishy, though. How could Tansy have known about it?"

"Known what?" Redstone asked. "HAVE you been making Love Potions?"

"No," Fawnwillow snapped, starting to pound her beetles again. "It's just...how did she know Earthclaw asked me to visit him in greenleaf?" She blushed scarlet as she said this and firmly avoided her friend's wary eyes.

Redstone dropped his pestle with a loud clunk. "What?"

"He asked me after he pulled me out of the sea after he was back to normal," Fawnwillow muttered. "Poppyleaf gave us both blankets, and then he pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said that if I wasn't doing anything over greenleaf, would I like to-"

"What did you say?" Redstone asked, picking up his pestle and grinding it on the desk because he was looking at her.

Fawnwillow went so red that Nightfang almost felt the heat from her. "And he said he never felt the same way about anyone else, but how could Tansy have heard him? She wasn't there...or was she? Maybe she got an Invisibility Pelt and sneaked onto the grounds to watch the mission."

"What did you say?" Redstone repeated, pounding his rod so hard that it made a dent.

"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you guys were okay to-"

"Fascinating though your social life is, Miss Granger..." an icy voice hissed behind them, and all three cats jumped, "...do not discuss it in my class. Ten points from LionClan."

Brokenfang had arrived while they were talking. The whole class was now looking around at them, and Iceheart took the chance to flash POTTER STINKS across the dungeon at said cat. Nightfang glared back at him before looking back.

"Reading magazines under the table as well?" Brokenfang added, snatching up the article. "A further ten points from LionClan...but of course..." His dark tawny eyes glittered as they fell on Tansy Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings."

The dungeon fell silent, and to Nightfang fury, he began to read the article aloud. "'Nightfang Potter's Secret Heartache'...dear Potter, what's troubling you now? 'A cat like no other...'"

Nightfang felt his face burn. Brokenfangwas pausing at the end of every sentence to allow the ViperClan cats a hearty snicker. The article sounded worse when read by Brokenfang, and Fawnwillow was blushing scarlet now.

"...Potter's supporters must hope that, next time, he gives his heart upon a better contender.' How touching," Brokenfang sneered, rolling up the magazine to continued laughter from his Clan. "Well, I shall separate the three of you so you can keep your minds on your class rather than on your twisted love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Granger, over there beside Miss Parkinson. Potter, that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."

Furious, Nightfang threw his stuff into his pot and dragged it up to the front of the dungeon to the empty table. Brokenfang followed, sat down at his desk, and watched the young black cat unload his pot. Determined not to give him the satisfaction of humiliating him, Nightfang continued to mash beetles, imagining each one being Brokenfang.

"All this attention seems to have inflated your fat skull Potter," Brokenfang hissed quietly once the class settled down again.

Nightfang didn't answer. He knew Brokenfang was trying to provoke him, no doubt he was hoping for an excuse to take around fifty points from LionClan before the end of the class. So he just kept quiet about it.

"You might be under the delusion that the entire warrior world is impressed with you," the dark tabby went on so quietly that no one could hear him. "But I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are just a nasty little cockroach who considers rules to be beneath him."

Nightfang tipped the beetles (which were already crushed) into his pot and started cutting up his ginger roots. His paws were now shaking slightly out of anger, but he kept his eyes down as if he couldn't hear those words.

"And yet...well done on your quite _exemplary _performance," he went on sarcastically, his eyes glittering and his voice softer. "And I've heard you've even used some gillyweed...clever...not something you would see in your everyday garden. Nor is this." Nightfang saw Brokenfang draw out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion. "Do you know what this is, Potter?"

"Grape juice?" Nightfang asked in a snarky tone.

Brokenfang meowed, his voice now becoming more dangerous, "Veritaserum: a Truth Potion so powerful that just three drops would even have the Dark Bear himself spilling his innermost secrets for the class to hear. Now the use of this potion on an apprentice is lamentably forbidden, but unless you stop stealing from my office, then you might just find my paw...slipping right over your evening grape juice."

"I haven't stolen anything," Nightfang replied calmly.

"Don't lie," Brokenfang hissed, his dark eyes boring into Nightfang's eyes. "You were out of bed on the night my office was broken into! Moody might be on your side, but I will not tolerate your behavior! Gillyweed may be common, but boomslang skin? I know you and your friends are making some Polyjuice Potion, and I WILL find out how."

Nightfang stared back, determined not to blink or look guilty. He actually hadn't stolen either of these things. Fawnwillow had taken the boomslang skin in their second year, for they needed it for the Polyjuice Potion, and while Brokenfang guessed it was Nightfang at the time, he had never proved it. But Bobby and Toadfall, of course, had stolen the gillyweed.

But he said nothing. He turned back to his ginger roots, picked up his knife, and started cutting them again with his claws. He didn't like the sound of the Truth Potion at all, nor would he put it past Brokenfang to slip him some. He stifled a shudder at what might come spilling out of his mouth if he did it...quite apart from landing lots of innocents in trouble, Fawnwillow and Bobby for a start. There were all the other things he was hiding, like he was in contact with Padfoot, and how he felt about Rainleaf (he felt sick on the inside). He tipped his ginger roots into the pot too and wondered if he would start drinking only from a private hip flask like Mad-Eye.

There was a knock on the door, and Brokenfang meowed in his usual voice, "Enter."

The class looked around as the door opened, and Coldstar came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward the front desk. He was twitching his tail tip and looking agitated.

"We need to talk," Coldstar meowed abruptly when he had reached the main desk. He seemed so resolute that nobody should hear him that he was barely opening his lips; it was as though he was an illiterate parrot. Nightfang kept his green eyes on his ginger roots, listening hard.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Brokenfang muttered.

But Coldstar interrupted him, "I want to talk now. You've been avoiding me, I know you have."

"I said after the lesson," the dark tabby repeated with a snap.

Under the excuse of holding up a measuring cup to see if he poured out enough bile, Nightfang stole a glance at the pair of them. Coldstar looked very worried, and Brokenfang looked angry.

The slick silver tabby hovered behind Brokenfang's desk for the rest of the class. He seemed determined to prevent him from slipping away at the end of class. Keen to hear what the leader of the Mountain wanted to say, Nightfang knocked over his bottle of mouse bile with two last minutes to go, which gave him an excuse to duck behind his pot and mop up while the rest of the class moved toward the door.

"All right, Karkaroff. What's so urgent?" he heard Brokenfang hissed.

"This," Coldstar mewed. Nightfang, peering around his pot, saw Coldstar lift up his right leg's fur and show Brokenfang something on his inner forearm. "Well? Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since-"

Brokenfang looked around and spat, "Put that away!"

Coldstar began, "But you must have surely noticed-"

"We'll talk later!" Brokenfang spat. Turning around, he hissed, "Potter! What are you doing?"

"Clearing up the bile, sir," Nightfang mewed innocently, straightening up and showing him the soaked rag he was holding.

Coldstar turned and strode out of the dungeon, looking worried and angry. Not wanting to stay alone with a very angry Brokenfang, Nightfang tossed his stuff back into his bag and left at top speed to tell his friends what he had just observed.

**...**

They left the castle at sunhigh the next day to find the sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was milder than it was all year, and by the time they arrived in the Village, all three cats took of their capes and draped them over their shoulders. The food Padfoot told them to bring along was in Nightfang's bag; they had sneaked a dozen tuna, a loaf of bread, a few cookies, and a flask of grape soda from the lunch table.

They went into Glad Rags Warrior Clothes to buy a gift for Bobby, where they had fun selecting the most bright scarves they could find, including one patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too foul. Nightfang knew Bobby had helped him out a lot during the second mission, so the lemur deserved a reward. Then, thirty minutes, they made their way up High Street, past Dervish and Bangles, and out toward the edge of the village.

Nightfang had never gone this way before. The snaky lane led them out into the wild scenery around the Village, around a coniferous forest. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens were larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow the Village lay under. Then they turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane...and waiting for them, its front paws on the top bar, was a large shaggy black wolf-dog. It was carrying some newspapers in its mouth and looking very familiar.

"Hey Padfoot," Nightfang purred as they had reached him, rubbing the wolf-dog's muzzle with his own. This was a way for cats to show affection for a friend, family member, or lover...and they can do this in real life.

The black wolf-dog sniffed his bag eagerly, wagged its tail once, then turned and began to sprint away across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. So the Golden Trio climbed over the stile and followed, keeping an eye out on any local wolves or bears or even Twolegs.

Padfoot led them to the foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, with being bigger and stronger than them, but the three cats were soon out of breath, yet they followed him higher onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour, they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Padfoot's wagging tail, the shoulder straps of Nightfang's bag cutting into his shoulders. Even the mountain goats, big white shaggy beasts, had come to watch them before going about their business.

At last, Padfoot slipped away, and when they reached the place where he vanished, they saw a narrow crack in the rock. They squeezed into it and found themselves in a cool dim cave, a small stream in the middle. Tied at the end of it, one end of his rope around a rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half gray horse, half bald eagle, his fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of them. All three bowed low to him, and after viewing them superiorly for a moment, Buckbeak bent his knees and let Fawnwillow to rush forth and pat his feathery neck. Nightfang looked over at the black wolf-dog, which had just turned into his godfather.

Padfoot was wearing a ragged gray cape, the same one he wore when he had left Alcatraz. His dark tabby pelt was longer than it was when he had appeared in the fire, and it was untidy and matted once more. And to top it off, he looked very skinny.

"Tuna!" he rasped gruffly, removing the old papers and throwing them down onto the cave floor. Nightfang pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of tuna, cookies, and bread.

Padfoot opened it, grabbed a piece of tuna, and tore off a large chunk with his fangs. "Thanks. I've been living off mice and fish. Can't steal too much food from the Village, though. But hey, there's always salmon to eat at the falls, though they're quicker than mice."

He grinned up at his godson, but Nightfang returned the smile only reluctantly and asked, "What're you doing here, Padfoot?"

"Being your godfather," Padfoot replied, chewing the tuna. "Don't worry; I'm just pretending to be a loveable stray." He was still smiling, but seeing the anxiety in his godson's face, he meowed more seriously, "I want to be serious about this, though. Your last letter...let's just say things are getting stranger. I've stolen the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's worried."

He nodded at the old papers on the cave floor, and Redstone picked them up and unfolded them. Nightfang, however, continued to look over at Padfoot, asking, "But what'll happen if they catch you? What if you're seen?"

Padfoot shrugged and tore into another tuna. "You three and Silverstar are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus. So there's nothing to worry about for now."

Redstone nudged Nightfang and pawed to him the old newspapers. There were two, the first bearing the headline Mystery Illness of Crouchfoot Crouch, the second saying something about the Government warrior still missing. And it even said that the Governor of Warriorism was now personally involved.

Nightfang scanned the story about Crouchfoot, his eyes narrowing. Phrases jumped out at him: _Hasn't been seen since November...house deserted...St. Mongo's Clinic for Magical Malaises and Wounds refuse comment...Government refuses to settle rumors of serious illness..._

"They make it sound like he's dying," Nightfang meowed. "But he can't seriously be that sick if he managed to get up here."

"My brother's his assistant," Redstone told Padfoot. "He says he's suffering from overwork."

Nightfang read through the story some more. "The last time I saw him, he looked ill, last time I saw him up close. The night my name came out of the Trophy..."

"Looks like he's finally getting his just deserts for firing Twinkies," Fawnwillow remarked, a flippant edge to her voice as she patted Buckbeak, who picked up the scraps. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now; bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

Redstone gave the light tabby a dark look while muttering to Padfoot, "She's recently become obsessed with lemurs."

Padfoot, however, looked very interested. "Crouchfoot fired his lemur?"

"Yeah, at the World Trophy," Nightfang meowed, telling the story of the Dark Mark's arrival, Twinkies being found with a tail-wand in her hand, and Crouchfoot's fury. When Nightfang was done, Padfoot got to his paws again and had started striding up and down the cave.

"Let me get this straight," he meowed after a while. "You first saw the lemur in the Top Box, right? She was saving him a seat?" At a nod, he added, "But Crouchfoot didn't turn up?"

"No," Nightfang replied, shaking his head. "I think he said he's been too busy."

Padfoot paced all around the cave. "And Nightfang, did you check your bag for your tail-wand after you left the Top Box?"

Nightfang thought hard. "Er...no. I didn't need it before we got in the forest. And then I got into my bag, and all that was in there were my Omni-binoculars. Are you saying whoever fabricated the Mark stole my tail-wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," Padfoot meowed with a grim nod.

"But Twinkies didn't steal that tail-wand!" Fawnwillow insisted.

Padfoot waved his paw around as he continued to patrol the cave. "I know that. But I know for sure that the lemur wasn't the only one in that box. Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Other cats," Nightfang mewed, ticking the names with each flicks of his tail. "Some German Governors, Fudgepelt, and the Malfoy cats."

"The Malfoy cats!" Redstone meowed so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously. "I bet it was Blizzardclaw!"

"Anyone else?" Padfoot asked.

Fawnwillow spoke up, "There was also Graytail Bagman."

Padfoot was still pacing. "I don't know anything about that guy except that he used to be a Thrasher for the Baltimore Bats in Maryland. So what's he like?"

Nightfang shrugged. "He's okay. He keeps offering to help me with the tournament."

"Really?" Padfoot asked, frowning. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know," Nightfang admitted. "He says he likes me."

"We saw him in the woods before the Dark Mark appeared," Fawnwillow told the dark brown tabby. "Remember?"

Redstone added, "Yeah, but the moment we told him about the mutiny, he went haring off to the campsite."

Fawnwillow stared at him with suspicion. "How'd you know where he Disapparated to?"

Redstone asked skeptically, "Are you saying you think Graytail conjured the Dark Mark?"

"I'm just saying; it's just more likely he did it than Twinkies," Fawnwillow replied stubbornly. "A cat would more likely have done it instead of a lemur."

"Told you she's obsessed with-" Redstone tried to meow implicitly to Padfoot.

But Padfoot raised his tail for silence and meowed, "When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the lemur was caught holding Nightfang's tail-wand, what did Crouchfoot do next?"

"He went to look in the bushes," Nightfang answered. "But there wasn't anyone there."

"Of course there wasn't," Padfoot muttered, pacing up and down. "He would want to pin the blame on anyone but his own lemur...and then he fired her?"

Fawnwillow nodded furiously. "Yes! He fired her just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled and-"

Redstone then snapped, "Will you please shut up about the lemur!"

To their surprise, Padfoot shook his head. "She's got the better measure of Crouchfoot, Redstone. If you want to know what a cat is like, look at how he treats his minions, not his equals."

He scratched at his ear with a hind paw, evidently thinking hard. "Crouchfoot leaving...he goes to the trouble of making sure his lemur saves him a seat at the World Trophy, but then he doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reintroduce the Tri-warrior Tournament, and then he stops coming to that too. It's not like him. If he's ever taken a day off work because of a sickness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak for dinner."

"Do you know him?" Nightfang asked.

Padfoot gave him a glare, suddenly looking as menacing as he was when Nightfang first saw him, the night when he still believed Padfoot to be a killer. Finally, he sighed, "Yep. He gave the order for me to be sent to Alcatraz without a trial."

"What?!" Redstone and Fawnwillow yelped while Nightfang rasped, "You're kidding!"

"Nope," Padfoot meowed, taking another great bite of tuna. "Crouchfoot was the former Head of the Branch of Magical Decree Prosecution, didn't you know that?"

They shook their heads.

Padfoot continued, "He was tipped for the next Governor of Warriorism. He's a great warrior, powerfully magical...and power-crazy. Oh, he didn't support Red Helmet," he added, seeing the look on Nightfang's face. "No, he was always very candid against the Dark Side. But then, there were a whole lot of cats who were against the Dark Side. Well, you three wouldn't understand; you're too young."

"That's what my dad said at the World Trophy," Redstone meowed, a trace of irritation in his voice. "Try us."

A grin flashed across Padfoot's emaciated face.

"All right. Have it your way." He paced around again and then said, "Imagine that Red Helmet's great now. You don't know who his cohorts are, you don't know who's with him and who isn't; you know he can control cats so that they do awful things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, your family, and your friends. Every quarter-moon, news comes of more deaths, more losses, more persecuting. The Government's in alarm and don't know what to do, and they're trying to keep things hidden from the Twolegs and kittypets. But they're dying too. Terror everywhere and panic...confusion...that's how it was. Times like that bring out the best in some and the worst in others. Crouchfoot's morals might've been good, but I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Government, and he started ordering harsh measures against Red Helmet's supporters. The Aura Cats were given new powers...powers to kill, for example. I wasn't the only one who was handed to the Dementors without trial. Crouchfoot fought violence with violence and let them use Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I'd say he became no better than many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters; plenty thought he was doing the right thing, and there were a lot of warriors clamoring for him to take over as Governor. And then, when Red Helmet disappeared, it looked like the end until Crouchfoot got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened."

The dark brown tabby tom smiled grimly. "Crouchfoot's own son, Crouchrunner, was caught with a group of Demon Cats who had talked their way out of Alcatraz. They were trying to find Red Helmet and return him to full power."

"Crouchfoot's son was caught?" Fawnwillow gasped.

"Yep." Padfoot tossed an extra tuna to Buckbeak, sitting back down on the ground beside the bread and tearing it in half. "That'd be a nasty little shock for the old guy. Should've spent more time at home with his family. To me, he should've left the office early once in a while...you know, gotten to know his own son."

He began to scarf down a few large pieces of bread, letting Nightfang ask, "Was his son a Demon Cat, then?"

Padfoot looked up, his mouth full of bread as he swallowed. "No idea. I was in Alcatraz myself when he was brought in. This is stuff I've found out since I broke out. That cat was definitely caught in the company of those I'd bet were Demon Cats. But he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like Twinkies."

Fawnwillow asked, "Did Crouchfoot try and free his son?" But Padfoot let out a laugh that was much more like a wolf's bark.

"Crouchfoot let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him! Anything that threatened to stain his status had to go; he had devoted his whole life to becoming Governor. You saw him fire a fervent lemur because she linked him with the Dark Mark again; doesn't that tell you what he's like? His fatherly love stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and according to what was being said, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouchfoot to show how much he hated his son...and then he sent him straight to prison."

"He gave his own son to the Dementors?" Nightfang asked, his jaw slightly open.

Padfoot didn't look amused now. "Hell yeah. I saw the Dementors bringing him in, saw them through the bars in my cell door. He wasn't more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was crying for his mother by dusk, but then he went quiet after a few days, though; they all went quiet in the end...except when they shrieked in their sleep."

For a moment, the numb look in his gray eyes became more definite than ever, as if the wind had stopped blowing. So Nightfang asked his godfather, "So is he still there?"

"Nope," Padfoot answered dully. "Not anymore. He died a year after they brought him in."

"He _died_?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't the only one. Most go insane there and stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when death was coming because the Dementors could smell it, and they got excited. That cat looked pretty ill when he arrived. Crouchfoot being a very vital Government member, he and his mate were allowed to visit his deathbed. That was the last time I saw Crouchfoot, half carrying his mate past my cell. She died apparently shortly after that due to grief. Wasted away like her son. Crouchfoot never even came to see off his son's body. The Dementors buried him outside the fortress, and I saw them do it."

He pushed aside the bread he was going to ear and instead pulled the bowl of the grape soda over to him, lapping up the sweet liquid. "So old Crouchfoot lost it all just when he thought he had it made for him. One moment, a hero ready to become Governor...next, his mate and son dead, the family name dishonored, and a big drop in popularity...or so I've heard since I escaped. Once the young'un died, cats started feeling more sympathetic towards the son and started asking how a nice kid from a good family had gone bad. The conclusion was that his father never cared for him. So Fudgepelt got the top job instead, and Crouchfoot was shoved aside into the Department of Worldwide Magical Teamwork."

There was a long silence. Nightfang looked back at the way Crouchfoot's eyes had bulged as he looked down at his wayward lemur back in the woods at the AirBall World Trophy. This, then, must have been why Crouchfoot made such a big deal to Twinkies being found beneath the Dark Mark. It must have brought back memories of his forgotten son, the old shame, and his downfall at the Government.

"Mad-Eye said Crouchfoot's obsessed with catching evil warriors," Nightfang told Padfoot.

Padfoot nodded. "Yeah, I've heard it's become an obsession with him. If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old status by catching one more Demon Cat."

"And he sneaked up here to search through Brokenfang's office!" Redstone meowed proudly, looking at Fawnwillow smugly.

"That doesn't make sense at all," Padfoot retorted with a frown.

Redstone meowed excitedly, "Yes it does!"

But Padfoot shook his head. "No, if Crouchfoot wants to examine Brokenfang, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be quite an ideal excuse to make regular visits to the Forest and keep an eye on him."

Nightfang had just meowed "So you think Brokenfang's up to something?", when Fawnwillow butted in, meowing, "I don't care what you say. Silverstar trusts him, and we should-"

"Drop it," Redstone meowed impatiently. "I know Silverstar's awesome, but that doesn't mean a really clever evil warrior couldn't fool him."

"Why did Brokenfang save Nightfang's life back in the first year then, huh?" Fawnwillow challenged the ginger tom. "Why didn't he just let him die?"

Redstone shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe he thought Silverstar would send him away."

To stop the arguing, Nightfang asked loudly, "What do you think, Padfoot?"

"I think they've both got a point," Padfoot answered, looking thoughtfully at both cats. "Ever since I found out Brokenfang was teaching here, I've wondered why Silverstar hired him in the first place. He's always been charmed by the Dark Arts, and he was famous for it at school. Smarmy slick greasy-furred kid, he was," he added, and the toms grinned at each other. "He knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the apprentices in seventh year, and he was part of a pack of ViperClan cats who nearly all turned out to be Demon Cats." He flicked his tail a few times and began ticking off names. "Rosier and Wilkes: they were both killed by Aura Cats the year before Red Helmet vanished. The Lestranges: they're mates, and they're both in Alcatraz. Avery: from what I've heard, he weaseled his way out of trouble by saying he was acting under the Imperius Curse; he's still on the loose. But as far as I know, Brokenfang was never accused of being a Demon Cat...not that that means much. Plenty were never caught. And Brokenfang's cunning enough to keep out of trouble."

"He knows Coldstar pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," Redstone added.

"Yeah, you should've seen his face when Coldstar turned up in Potions yesterday!" Nightfang meowed quickly. "Coldstar wanted to talk to him and says he's been avoiding him. Then he looked really worried and showed him something on his leg, but I didn't see what it was."

Padfoot looked bewildered. "He did? Well, I don't know what that's about...but if Coldstar's worried, and he's going to Brokenfang for answers..." The dark brown tabby stared at the cave wall and then made a grimace of frustration. "We know that Silverstar trusts Brokenfang, and I know he trusts where others wouldn't; that's one of his most defining traits. But I just can't see him letting Brokenfang teach at the Forest if he ever worked for Red Helmet."

"Why did Mad-Eye and Crouchfoot want to get into Brokenfang's office then?" Redstone asked stubbornly.

"Well..." Padfoot meowed slowly. "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to search every mentor's office when he got to the Forest, and he takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously. I'm not sure he trusts anyone, and after the things he's seen, I'm not surprised. I'll say this for Mad-Eye, though; he never killed if he could help it. Always brought cats in alive. He was tough, but he never stooped low to the level of the Demon Cats. Crouchfoot, though, is another story; is he really ill? If he is, why did he haul himself to Brokenfang's office? And if he's not...what's he up to? What did he do at the World Trophy that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What was he doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

He fell into silence, staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for scraps he might have overlooked. Finally, Padfoot looked up to Redstone and asked, "You say your brother Sandthorn is Crouchfoot's personal helper, right? You think you could ask him if he's seen Crouchfoot lately?"

"I can try," Redstone replied doubtfully. "But I better not make it sound like I think Crouchfoot is up to anything risky. Sandthorn loves him."

"And you might try and find out if they found Wetnose while you're at it," Padfoot meowed, pulling forth the second copy of the Daily Warrior.

"Graytail told me they hadn't found her yet," Nightfang spoke up.

Padfoot looked over at the paper. "Yeah, he's quoted in the article in there, blabbing on about how bad her memory is. Maybe she's changed since I last saw her, but the Wetnose I knew was NOT forgetful. She was a bit slow on the uptake, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into trouble since she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a burden at the Government; maybe that's why Graytail didn't bother to look for her for so long." He heaved a big sigh and pawed at his shadowed eyes. "What time is it?"

"Half past three," Fawnwillow told him.

"You better get back," Padfoot meowed, getting up to his paws. Looking hard at his godson, he meowed, "It was nice of you three to visit, but I don't want you sneaking out of school to see me, okay? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd going on. But don't leave without permission; it would be an ideal chance for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and eels," Nightfang mewed.

But Padfoot scowled at him and replied, "I don't care. I'll be able to breathe freely again when this tournament's over. And if you're talking about me among yourselves out in public, call me Scruffy." He handed Nightfang the empty napkin and canteen and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. "I'll go to the edge of the village with you: I gotta see if I can scavenge for another paper."

He transformed into the great black wolf-dog before they left the cave, and they climbed back down the mountainside with him, across the rocky ground, and back to the stile. Here, he let them rub against his legs before setting off at a run around the border of the Village. Then the Golden Trio made their way back into the Village and up toward the Forest.

"I wonder if Sandthorn knows all that stuff about his boss?" Redstone wondered as they padded up to the castle. "But maybe he doesn't care. It'd probably just make him admire Crouchfoot even more. Yeah, he loves rules, probably just say he was refusing to break them for his own son."

"Hold up right there. Sandthorn wouldn't throw his family to the Dementors," Fawnwillow argued severely.

Sandthorn shrugged. "I don't know about that. If he thought we're standing in the way of his career...well, he's really ambitious, you know."

The three cats prowled up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward them from the Great Hall. Sandthorn sniffed deeply and sighed, "Poor Scruffy. He must be like you, Nightfang. Imagine having to live off on only mice and fish."

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**AvatarCat13: Well...I'm in a much better mood now.**

**Harry: That's good. What went wrong today?**

**AvatarCat13: I wanted to come with my mom to Walgreens to get a little something for watching the house for all these months. But she forgot to take me this morning, and I was upset, especially since I got a chore wrong. But now...I apologized, and all is forgiven.**

**Harry: Well, I'm glad you're feeling chipper, Avatar Cat. And another question: I saw that there weren't the breeds in the cats' descriptions. How did that happen?**

**AvatarCat13: I thought it'd be tiring to list each cat's breeds every time unless they get their debut appearance. So I've saved that until later. But anyways, let's go with the review thing. (To the readers) Read and review, everyone! Today is my dog Reesey's birthday and she's four years old, so those who do will get a virtual dachshund plush doll, and it'll be sent to them as soon as you leave a review. I don't allow flames, but advice, questions, and constructive criticism (or all three separately) are allowed as long as it's not harsh.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	28. Crouchfoot's Insanity

**AvatarCat13: Hey, everyone, and welcome to the newest chapter for Nightfang Potter 4! Well, we've been getting through some stories lately.**

**Ron: Seems like you've been keeping yourself busy, mate? Why not take a break?**

**AvatarCat13: Oh, I do that sometimes. Sometimes I take a break, and sometimes, I just keep working. It's what I do.**

**Ron: I hear ya. And you ready for your niece to arrive?**

**AvatarCat13: Yep, and her name will be Caroline. Now let's go to the disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither series. J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter own them.**

**Uploading Date: June 6, 2013**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**Crouchfoot's Insanity**_

The Trio went up to the Owlery after breakfast on Sunday to send Sandthorn a letter, asking if he had seen Crouchfoot lately. They decided to use Katara since it had been so long since she had a job. When they watched her fly out of sight through the Owlery window, they went down to the kitchen to give Bobby his new scarves.

The lemurs gave them a cheery welcome, bowing and bustling around making the food again. Bobby was ecstatic about his present since he was wiping large tears out of his huge amber eyes, squeaking, "Nightfang Potter is too good to Bobby! Thank you!"

"You saved me with that gillyweed, Bobby," Nightfang meowed, shrugging. "You and Toadfall. And it's what friends do."

"Are there more cookies around here?" Redstone asked, looking around at the beaming and bowing lemurs.

Fawnwillow hissed, "Didn't you just eat breakfast?", but a silver platter of cookies was already zooming toward them, supported by four lemurs.

Nightfang meowed, "How about we get some stuff to send up to Scruffy?"

Redstone nodded. "Good idea. That'll give Sheep something to do. You got some extra food?" he asked the surrounding lemurs, and they bowed and hurried off to get some more.

"Hey, where's Twinkies?" Fawnwillow asked as she started looking around.

"Twinkies is by the fire, miss," Bobby replied quietly, his ears drooping slightly.

Fawnwillow looked to the side as her ears flattened with concern, so Nightfang looked over at the fireplace too. Twinkies was sitting on the same stool as last time, but she had let herself get so filthy that her brown fur looked like the smoky-black brick behind her. Her clothes were tatty and unwashed, and she was clutching a bottle of grape wine and swaying on her stool, staring into the fire. As they watched her, she gave a huge hiccup.

"Winky is getting through six bottles a day," Bobby whispered to the cats.

"That stuff's not as strong as beer," Nightfang observed.

But Bobby shook his head. "'Tis strong for a lemur, sir. 'Tis strong if sir takes more than a few mouthfuls," he said as Twinkies hiccupped again. The lemurs bringing the cookies gave her judgmental looks as they returned to work.

"Twinkies is grieving, Nightfang Potter, sir," Bobby whispered sadly. "She wants to go home and still thinks Mr. Crouch is her master, and even nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Silverstar Dumbledore is her master now."

Struck by an inspiration, Nightfang padded over to the mouse lemur and poked her away. "Hey, Twinkies," he meowed. "Do you know what Crouchfoot is up to? He's just stopped turning up to judge the Tournament."

Twinkies' eyes flickered, her enormous pupils focused on the black tom. She swayed slightly again and then said, "M...Master is stopped (hic) coming...?"

"Yeah. We haven't seen him since the first mission," Nightfang informed her. "The Daily Warrior said he's ill."

"Master (hic) ill?" Twinkies swayed some more, staring blurrily at Nightfang.

"But we're not sure if it's true," Fawnwillow added quickly.

At this, Twinkies began whimpering, "Master is needing his (hic) Twinkies! Master cannot (hic) manage (hic) all by himself..."

Fawnwillow told her severely, "Look at Twolegs. They don't force lemurs to do their work."

"Twinkies (hic) is not only (hic) doing housework for Mr. Crouch!" Twinkies squeaked huffily, swaying even more and slopping wine down her heavily stained shirt. "Master is (hic) trusting Twinkies with (hic) the most important (hic) the most secret..."

"What?" Nightfang asked, interested.

But Twinkies shook her head very hard, spilling more wine. She frowned up at Nightfang and kept wobbling as she said mutinously, "Twinkies is keeping (hic) her master's secrets...you is (hic) snooping, you is."

At this, Bobby snapped, "Twinkies must not talk like that! Nightfang Potter is brave and noble and not snoopy!"

"He is snooping (hic) into my master's (hic) secret (hic)...Twinkies is a good house-lemur...hic..." Twinkies said, ignoring the winged lemur. "Twinkies keeps her silence (hic) but cats are trying to (hic) snoop and meddle (hic)..."

The mouse lemur's eyelids drooped, and then, without warning, she slid off her stool into the hearth, snoring loudly while the empty wine bottle rolled away across the stone floor. Ten lemurs came hurrying forward, looking sickened. One of them picked up the bottle, and the other lemurs covered Twinkies with a large cloth and tucked the ends in neatly, hiding her from view.

"We is sorry you had to see that!" a black lemur spoke up, looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all because of Twinkies, sirs and miss!"

Fawnwillow turned to the lemur, looking exasperated. "But she's unhappy! Why don't you cheer her up instead of covering her up?"

The black lemur bowed again. "We apologize, miss, but lemurs has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served. We lemurs are happy to serve-"

"FOR STARCLAN'S SAKE!" Fawnwillow roared, leaping onto the table. "Listen to me, all of you lemurs! You've got just as much right as other animals to be unhappy! You've got the right to earnings and vacations and even proper clothes. You don't have to do everything you're told! You are free animals! I mean, look at Bobby!"

"Please keep Bobby out of this," Bobby mumbled, looking scared.

The cheerful smiles of the lemurs had now vanished. They were suddenly looking at the light brown she-cat as if she was dangerous.

"We have your extra food!" a lemur behind Nightfang squealed, shoving a large turkey, a dozen brownies, and some fruit into their bags. "Good-bye!"

The little primates crowded around the Trio and began pushing them out of the kitchen, little hands pushing in the smalls of their backs. Bobby was at the hearth, calling miserably, "Thank you for the gifts, Nightfang Potter!" before turning to the lumpy tablecloth that was Twinkies.

"Why'd you have to say all that, Fawnwillow?" Redstone asked angrily as the kitchen door slammed shut behind them. "They won't let us visit them now! We could've tried to get more stuff out of Twinkies about Crouchfoot!"

Fawnwillow snorted. "As if you care! You only like the food!"

It was an irritable day after that. Nightfang got so tired of his friends arguing over homework in the den room that he took the food up to the Owlery that evening on his own.

Sheepinton was too small to carry an entire ham up to the mountain by himself, for he was a tiny elf owl. So Nightfang recruited the help of two school tawny owls as well. When they set off into the dusk, looking odd with the large package between them, Nightfang leapt onto the windowsill, looking out at the grounds. He looked at the dark swishing canopies of the Forbidden Swamp and the rippling sails of the Mountain's ship. A boreal owl flew through the smoke rising from the chimney of Badgerstripe's cabin, soaring to the castle, around the Owlery, and out of sight.

Looking down, Nightfang saw the big black cat digging briskly in front of his hut. He wondered what he was doing; it looked like he was making a new vegetable patch. As he watched, the snow-white form of Fuzzystar emerged from the Oasis carriage and strode over to Badgerstripe, appearing to be trying to talk with him. Badgerstripe stopped digging, but he did not seem to want to continue, for Fuzzystar returned to the carriage shortly after that.

Unwilling to go back to LionClan Tower and listen to his friends snarling at each other, the black cat watched Badgerstripe restart digging until the dark swallowed him and the owls began to awake, swooshing past him into the night. He would find out what was up later.

**...**

By breakfast the next day, the others' bad moods had come to an end, and to Nightfang's relief, Redstone's dark calculation that the lemurs would send poor food up to the r table because of Fawnwillow proved to be false. The bacon, eggs, and salmon were as good as usual.

When the post owls arrived, Fawnwillow looked up, expecting something. Seeing this, Redstone told her, "Sandthorn won't have had time to answer. We only sent Katara to him yesterday."

"It's not that," Fawnwillow replied. "I've taken out a contribution to the Daily Warrior. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the ViperClan cats."

"Good!" Nightfang spoke up, also looking up. He saw a great gray owl fly down towards them, adding, "Hey Fawnwillow. I think you got lucky."

Fawnwillow frowned. "It hasn't got a newspaper, though. It's-"

But to her bafflement, the owl landed in front of her plate. And it was loosely followed by four barn owls, a brown fishing owl, and a spot-bellied eagle owl.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" Nightfang asked Fawnwillow, seizing her glass before it was knocked over by the owls. All of them were jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.

"I have no idea..." Fawnwillow muttered, taking the letter from the great gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. Then she tossed it back, hissing, "Aw, come on!"

"What's up?" Redstone asked.

Fawnwillow pushed it towards him. "It's...ridiculous..."

Nightfang saw that the letter was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Warrior. This was the message...and quite a vulgar one.

_**YOU ARE A BAD CAT. NIGHTFANG POTTER DESERVES BETTER THAN YOU. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM, KITTYPET.**_

"They're all like it!" Fawnwillow hissed desperately, opening one letter after another. "Read them! 'Nightfang Potter doesn't need a whore like you ' and 'You deserve to be boiled alive in lava' and..._rowr_!"

She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish liquid that smelled like gas gushed over her forepaws, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

"It's undiluted bubotuber pus!" Redstone exclaimed, gingerly sniffing it the letter.

Fawnwillow hissed in pain, tears in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her paws on the table. But the toes on her paws were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as if she was wearing a pair of thick twisted bear paws.

"You better go to the medicine den," Nightfang meowed as the owls around Fawnwillow took off. "We'll tell Sproutflower where you went."

As soon as Fawnwillow ran off on two feet, Redstone hissed, "I don't wanna say I'm right, but...I warned her not to annoy Tansy Skeeter! Look at this one!" He read a letter Fawnwillow had left behind: "'I read in Warrior Weekly about how you are playing Nightfang Potter for a fool. He has had enough suffering, and I will send you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a bigger envelope.' StarClan almighty, she better watch out."

But Fawnwillow didn't turn up for Herbology. As the two toms left the hothouse for their Care ofOther Animals class, they saw Iceheart and his croniesdescendingthe steps of the castle.And Pugface was whispering and giggling cruelly behind them with her gang of she-cats. Catching sight of Nightfang, the ugly she-cat called maliciously, "Hey Potter! Where's your mate?!"

Nightfang thought of saying _In the medicine den, but she'll be back to kick your asses! _But in the end, he ignored her; he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much trouble the article had caused.

Badgerstripe, who had told them before that they had finished with unicorns, was waiting for them outside his hut with open crates at his feet. Nightfang's heart sank at the sight of the crates, but when he got near enough to see inside, he found himself looking at a number of furry sandy-brown weasel-like animals. Their front paws were curiously lean, and they were blinking up at the class, looking puzzled at all the attention.

"These're meerkats," Badgerstripe meowed when the class gathered. "Yeh find 'em in the Kalahari Desert down in South Africa. These ones like sparkly stuff...have a look."

One of the meerkats leapt up and attempted to bite Pugface's jewelry off her paw. She shrieked and jumped back, making Nightfang smirk and think _Now THAT is karma._

Badgerstripe purred, "Useful little explorers; thought we'd have fun with 'em today. See there?" He pointed a paw at the large patch of dug-up earth Nightfang saw him digging from the Owlery window. "I've buried gold coins there, an' there's a prize fer whoever picks the meerkat that digs up most. Jus' take off all yer valuables an' choose a meerkat. Get ready fer some action."

Nightfang padded up to the box before he picked a meerkat. It put its long snout in his ear and began its sniffing enthusiastically, making him smile. It was really quite a curious little creature.

"Wait," Badgerstripe told everyone, looking down into the crate. "Here's a spare meerkat, so who's missin? Where's Fawnwillow?"

"Medicine den," Redstone replied.

Noticing Pugface listening, Nightfang added, "We'll tell you about it later."

It was the most fun they had ever had in Care of Other Animals. The meerkats were fast diggers since they often dug for shelter and food in their native land. They dove in and out of the patch of earth like it was water, each scurrying back to the cat who had released it and dropping gold at their paws. Redstone's ferret was mostly effective, having soon covered his forepaws with coins.

"Can you buy these as pets?" he asked excitedly as his meerkat (nicknamed Honey) dove back into the soil.

Badgerstripe chuckled. "Nah, yer mama wouldn't be happy, kid. They wreck houses, them. I think they've nearly gotten all of 'em now," he added, patrolling the patch of earth while the meerkats continued to dive. "I on'y buried a hundred coins. Hullo, Fawnwillow!"

Fawnwillow was hobbling towards them across the lawn. Her paws were very heavily bound, and she looked miserable from all the limping. Pugface was watching her with fixed eyes and a sneer, and seeing this, Nightfang padded over to shield his friend.

"Let's check how yeh did! Count yer loot!" Badgerstripe called. Noticing Monkeynose, he added sternly, "An' there ain't no point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle. That there's Irish gold, came all the way from Ireland. Vanishes after a few hours."

Monkeynose emptied his pockets, looking resentful. Redstone's meerkat had been the most successful one, so Badgerstripe gave him a huge chunk of chocolate for a prize.

Then the bell rang across the grounds for lunch. The rest of the class set off back to the castle, but the Trio stayed behind to help their giant friend put the meerkats back in their boxes so they could be used for later classes. From the corner of his eye, Nightfang saw Fuzzystar watching them, a deer fawn in her jaws; she had apparently gone hunting.

"What yeh done ter yer paws, Fawnwillow?" Badgerstripe asked her, looking concerned.

She told him about the hate mail she had received and the envelope full of pus.

Badgerstripe smiled warmly down at her. "Arr, don't worry. I got some o' them letters after Tansy wrote about me mama. She said stuff like 'Yeh're a monster with rabies, and yeh should be euthanized' and 'Yer mother killed innocent Twolegs, and you should jump in a lake o' fire.'" He began heaving the meerkats' crates over by his cabin wall. "They're just loons. Don't open 'em if yeh get any more. Toss 'em straight in the trash."

They were done and headed back to the castle. Nightfang, who was helping Redstone carry Fawnwillow inside, meowed, "You missed a good lesson, Fawnwillow. Those meerkats are really something, aren't they, Redstone?"

The ginger tom, however, frowned at his prize strapped to his shoulder. He looked carefully put out about something, making Nightfang ask, "What's wrong? Don't you love chocolate?"

"It's not that," Redstone muttered shortly. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"

"What gold?"

Redstone replied, "The gold I gave you at the World Trophy. The gold I gave you for my Omni-binoculars. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"

Nightfang had to think before he realized what Redstone was talking about. Then the memory came back. "Oh...I don't know. I never noticed it was gone. I was more worried about my tail-wand...sorry about that."

They climbed the steps into the entrance hall and went into the Great Hall for lunch. As they sat down and started serving themselves some beef stew and tuna, Redstone muttered, "Must be nice. To have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of it goes missing."

"I had other stuff on my mind that night!" Nightfang meowed impatiently. "We all did."

"I didn't know it vanishes," Redstone muttered. "I thought I was paying you back...and I'm sorry. You shouldn't have bought me that hat for Christmas."

Nightfang sighed. "Forget it. It's all in the past."

The ginger tom speared a piece of meat on his claw, glaring at it. "I hate being poor."

The other two looked at each other.

"It's fox-dung," Redstone went on, still glaring at the meat. "I don't blame the twins for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could."

"We know what to get you next Christmas," Fawnwillow meowed brightly. "It could be worse. At least your paws aren't full of pus." She was having a lot of difficulty handling her food, her paws being so stiff and swollen. Then she finally spat, "Fuck! I hate that fucking Tansy cow! If it's the last thing I do...I'll get her for this!"

**...**

Hate mail continued to arrive for Fawnwillow the next quarter-moon, and though she did what Badgerstripe said, several of her haters sent Yowlers, which exploded at the table and shrieked insults at her for the whole Hall to hear. Even the cats who didn't read the paper knew all about the supposed triangle now, but Nightfang was getting sick of telling them that Fawnwillow wasn't his mate.

"It'll die down," he reassured her. "Cats got bored with what she wrote about me last time."

"I want to know how she's listening into private chats when she's banned from the grounds!" she spat angrily in reply.

Nightfang was rather surprised. It seemed like they had switched roles for this sort of thing.

Fawnwillow hung back in their next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to ask Mad-Eye something. The rest of the class was eager to leave, for Mad-Eye had given them such a hard test of hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small wounds. Nightfang had such a bad case of Twitchy Tail that he had to tuck his tail under him as he walked away from the class.

"She doesn't use an Invisibility Pelt!" Fawnwillow panted later, catching up with the toms in the entrance hall. "Mad-Eye says he didn't see her anywhere near the judges' table at the second mission or anywhere near the lake!"

"Is there any point in telling you to drop this?" Redstone asked.

Fawnwillow snapped stubbornly, "No! I want to know how she heard me talking to Earthclaw! And how she found out about Badgerstripe's saber-tooth mom!"

"Maybe she had you bugged," Nightfang suggested.

Redstone tilted his head to one side. "Bugged? Did she put fleas on her or something?"

Knowing that Redstone was not raised by Twolegs, Nightfang started explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment and even MP3 players and stuff. Redstone was riveted, but Fawnwillow interrupted them, asking, "Are you two ever, and I mean EVER, going to read The History Of The Forest?"

"What's the point?" Redstone asked. "We can just ask you."

"All those alternates for magic Twolegs use (electricity, computers, and even MP3 players) and all those things go haywire around the Forest. There's much magic in the air," she explained. "No, Tansy's using magic to eavesdrop, she must be, If I could just find out what it is...and if it's illegal, I'll have her for this!"

Redstone frowned. "Haven't we got enough to worry about? Do we have to start a crusade against her as well?"

But Fawnwillow snarled. "I don't need help! I'll do it on my own!"

With a hiss, she marched back up the sandstone staircase without a backward glance. Nightfang was quite sure she was going to the library.

"Wanna bet she comes back with Hate Tansy Skeeter badges?" Redstone muttered.

But Fawnwillow didn't ask them to help her pursue revenge against Tansy, for which they were grateful, because their homework was mounting ever higher before Easter vacation. Nightfang had to admire that Fawnwillow could research magical methods of spying as well as everything else they had to do.

He was working hard just to get through all their homework, though he made a point of sending regular food up to the mountain cave for his godfather; after last time, Nightfang did not forget what it felt like to starve. He added notes to Padfoot, telling him that nothing strange had happened so far and that they were still waiting for Sandthorn's answer.

Katara didn't return until the end of Easter. Sandthorn's letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs Hollywhisker had sent. Both the toms' eggs were the size of fully-grown Chihuahuas and full of homemade chocolate. But Fawnwillow's...was no bigger than even a robin's egg. Her face fell when she saw it as she mewed, "Redstone, does your mom read the paper?"

"Yeah," Redstone replied, swallowing the chocolate. "Gets it for the recipes."

The light brown tabby she-cat looked sadly at her tiny egg. Wanting to cheer her up, Nightfang asked, "You wanna see what Sandthorn's written to us?"

But the letter was short and irritated.

_As I am constantly telling the Daily Warrior, Mr. Crouch is taking a merited rest. He is sending in regular owls with directions. No, I haven't seen him, but I can be trusted to know my own better's handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to suppress these preposterous rumors._

_Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter._

**...**

The start of greenleaf would normally have meant that Nightfang was training hard for the last AirBall match of the season. This year, however, he needed to prepare for the third and final mission, but he still didn't know what he had to do. Finally, at the end of May, Thistleheart held him back in Transfiguration.

"You are to go down to the AirBall field tonight at nine p.m., Potter," she told him. "Graytail Bagman will be there to tell the guardians about the third mission."

So that night, Nightfang left his friends at LionClan Tower and went downstairs. As he crossed the entrance hall, Oakheart came up from the BadgerClan den room, gray eyes shining.

"So what do you think it's gonna be?" he asked Nightfang as they padded down the stone steps out into the cloudy night. "Swanflight keeps going on about underground burrows. She thinks we have to find treasure and dodge rabbits."

"That wouldn't be bad," Nightfang mewed with a small smile.

It could be true since he would simply ask Badgerstripe for a meerkat to do the job for him. They walked down the dark grass to the AirBall arena, turned through a gap in the stands, and padded out onto the field. But when they got there, they got quite a surprise.

"Great heaps of fox-dung!" Oakheart yowled indignantly. "What've they done to it?"

Nightfang looked around and gasped. The AirBall field was no longer smooth and flat like it would normally be. It looked like somebody had been building tall walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"They're hedges!" Nightfang exclaimed, pawing and examining the nearest one.

"Hello!" called a cheery voice.

Graytail was standing in the middle of the field with Earthclaw and Swanflight. The two Forest cats made their way toward them, climbing over the hedges and sitting down beside them. As they did, to Nightfang's surprise, Swanflight looked at him and smiled warmly as he came near. The white she-cat's attitude towards him seemed to have had changed completely since he had saved her sister from the sea and the dolphins.

As they sat up, Graytail purred, "What do you think, young ones? Growing nicely, aren't they? Just give 'em a moon, and Badgerstripe will have them twenty bear-lengths high. Don't worry, though," he added, grinning as he spotted the discouraged looks on Nightfang's and Oakheart's faces. "You'll have the AirBall field back to normal once the Tournament is over! Now what do you guess what we're making here?"

Earthclaw grunted. "It's a maze."

"That's right!" Graytail praised him. "Now the third mission is going to be very direct. The Tri-warrior Trophy will be placed in the center of the maze. The first guardian to touch it will get full marks and become the new winner of the Tournament."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" Swanflight asked inquisitively, long whiskers gently swaying in the breeze.

Graytail nodded. "Yep. But there'll be obstacles along the way. Badgerstripe is providing a number of animals here, then there'll be spells that must be broken...all that, you know. Now the guardians leading on points will get a head start into the maze." He grinned at the Forest cats. "Then Earthclaw will enter...then Swanflight. But you'll all have a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Nightfang didn't think so, knowing too well the kind of creatures Badgerstripe could provide for an event like this. However, he nodded politely with the other guardians.

"Very well...if you haven't got any more questions, we'll go back up to the castle. It's a bit icy out here...quite late for newleaf and greenleaf!"

The gray tom hurried together with Nightfang as they began to wend their way out of the maze. Nightfang guessed Graytail would start offering to help him again, but Earthclaw nudged his shoulder with his muzzle, asking, "Could I haff a vord vith you?"

"Sure," Nightfang replied, slightly surprised.

"Vill you valk vith me?"

"Okay."

Graytail looked slightly uneasy as he spoke up, "You want me to wait for you, Nightfang?"

Nightfang hid a smile. "No, it's okay, Mr. Bagman. I can find my way back, thanks."

So the two younger toms left the stadium together, but to his surprise, Earthclaw did not pad over to the Mountain ship. Instead, he walked toward the forest.

"Why're we going this way, Earthclaw?" Nightfang asked as they passed Badgerstripe's hut and the well-lit Oasis carriage.

"Don't vont to be overheard," the dark tabby meowed shortly.

When they reached a short way from the Oasis horses' corral, Earthclaw stopped at a couple of stumps and turned to face Nightfang. He had a glare on his grim face as he asked, "Vot is there between you and Fawny-villow?"

"Nothing," Nightfang replied, surprise at Earthclaw not asking something serious. But Earthclaw kept glowering at him, so he elaborated, "We're friends. She's not my mate, and she never has been. It's just that Tansy cat making stuff up about us."

"Yet she talks about you very often," Earthclaw countered, looking doubtfully at him.

Nightfang nodded. "Yeah. But it's because we're friends."

He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with Earthclaw Krum himself, the famous Global AirBall player. It was as if the dark brown tabby tom thought he, was an equal...a rival. Noticing Earthclaw beginning to speak again, he added quickly, "There's nothing between her and me. I promise in StarClan's name."

Earthclaw looked slightly happier and started at the black tom for a bit. Then he finally grunted, "I vas vatching you at the first mission. You fly very vell, Potter."

"Thanks," Nightfang purred, smiling and feeling more confident. "I watched you at the World AirBall Trophy last greenleaf. That Wronski Feint was so cool, and-"

But suddenly, he saw something move behind Earthclaw in the trees. Nightfang, who had quite the experience of encountering something that lurked in the forest, instinctively grabbed his new rival's scruff and pulled him around.

"Vot is it?"

Nightfang shook his head and released Earthclaw, staring at the place where he saw movement. He unsheathed his claws, ready for a fight...and suddenly, a cat staggered out from behind a tall evergreen pine tree. For a moment, he didn't recognize him, but then, he realized who this cat was. It was Crouchfoot.

He looked like he had been traveling for days. His curly brown fur was ripped and bloody, his face scratched, and his face gray with exhaustion. His neat pelt and cat-moustache were both in need of a bath and a shear. His strange appearance, however, was no stranger than the way he was behaving. Muttering and twitching, Crouchfoot appeared to be talking to an invisible being.

He reminded Nightfang of a stray cat he had seen once when out walking with his relatives. That cat was also talking wildly with thin air. Tulip had nudged Tubby across the road to avoid him, and Bristle treated the family to a long and loud outburst about what he would do with tramps and vagabonds if he were a Twoleg.

"Vosn't he a judge?" Earthclaw asked, staring at Mr. Crouch. "He is vith your Ministry, right?"

Nightfang nodded and inched slowly towards Crouchfoot, who did not look at him. He was telling a nearby tree, "...and when you're done, Weatherly, send an owl to Silverstar settling the number of Mountain cats who will be attending the tournament. Coldstar just sent word there will be twelve..."

"Mr. Crouch?" Nightfang asked warily.

"...and then send another owl to Fuzzystar; she might want to increase the number of cats she's bringing now that Coldstar's made it a round dozen. Can you do that, Weatherly, will you?"

The tabby tom's orange eyes were bulging as he stared at the tree, meowing soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his side on the leaf-strewn ground while Nightfang ran forward, meowing loudly, "Mr. Crouch! Are you okay?"

Crouchfoot's eyes were rolling in his head. Helpless, Nightfang looked around at Earthclaw, who had followed him into the trees and was looking down at Crouchfoot in alarm as he asked, "Vot is wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Nightfang muttered. "Earthclaw, go and get someone...and quick."

"Silverstar!" Crouchfoot gasped, raising his head a bit. "I need...to see...Silverstar!"

Nightfang nodded. "Okay. Get up, and we can go up to the-"

Crouchfoot breathed and rasped something like "I've done...a stupid..._stupid _thing..." He looked crazy now, his amber eyes rolling and bulging and a trickle of saliva slithering down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. "Must...tell...Silverstar..."

"Get up, Mr. Crouch," Nightfang instructed loudly and clearly. "You gotta get up! I'll take you to Silverstar, don't worry!"

"Who...who are you?" Crouchfoot rasped.

The black cat looked at Earthclaw for help, but the tabby hung back, looking nervous. He looked back and meowed, "I'm a cat from the school."

"You're not...his?"

"No," Nightfang replied, not knowing what Crouchfoot was talking about.

"Silverstar's?"

"Yes sir."

Crouchfoot reached a paw up and took hold of his chest fur, sinking his claw into the skin. "Please...warn Silverstar..."

Nightfang nodded. "I will if you let go of me. Just let go, and I'll get him."

"Thank you, Weatherly, and when you're done, I would like a cup of tea. My mate and son will be arriving shortly. We are attending a concert for Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge."

Crouchfoot was now talking to a tree again and seemed unaware that Nightfang was there, which surprised said cat so much he didn't notice being free. "Yes, my son just got twelve O.W.L.S. Most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now if you could bring me that note from the Ethiopian Governor of Warriorism, I think I will have time to write a response."

"You stay here!" Nightfang told Earthclaw, pulling free. "I'll get Silverstar. No offense, but I'm a fast cat, and I know where his office is."

"He is mad," Earthclaw sighed doubtfully. He was staring down at Crouchfoot, who was still gabbling to the tree, apparently convinced it was Sandthorn.

"Just stay with him," Nightfang meowed as he started to run off.

But his movement seemed to trigger another abrupt change in Crouchfoot, who grabbed his tail with his claws and held him back. His eyes bulged again as he rasped, "Don't...leave...me! I got away...must warn Silverstar...all my fault...Wetnose is dead...my son...Nightfang Potter...the Dark Bear...stronger than before..."

Nightfang hissed. "I'll get Silverstar if you let me go of my tail, Mr. Crouch! Help me!" he told Earthclaw impatiently.

Looking uneasy, Earthclaw moved forward and squatted down next to Crouchfoot. He gently pried his jaws open so that Nightfang's tail slid out as he whisked it around to get the saliva off.

"Just keep him here," he instructed. "I'll be back with Silverstar."

"Hurry!" Earthclaw called after him as Nightfang raced away from the swamp and through the dark grounds. They were deserted since Graytail, Swanflight, and Oakheart had left.

He tore up the stone steps, through the giant oak front doors, and off up the sandstone staircase to the second floor. Five minutes later, he was hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty hallway. Once he stopped in front of it, he panted, "Meow Mix!"

This was the password to the hidden staircase to Silverstar's office...two years ago. The password had clearly changed, however, for the gargoyle did not come alive and jump aside, but it stood frozen, glaring at Nightfang vindictively.

"Move it!" Nightfang rasped. "C'mon!"

But nothing at the Forest had moved just because he yowled, so he knew it was no use to yowl. He looked up and down the dark hallway, looking to see if Silverstar was around. Perhaps he was in the staffroom? He started running as fast as he could toward the staircase...but then...

"Potter!"

Nightfang skidded to a stop and looked back. Brokenfang had just appeared from the staircase behind the stone gargoyle, amber eyes glittering. The wall was sliding shut behind him even as he beckoned the LionClan warrior back toward him.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he growled.

"I need to see Silverstar!" Nightfang replied, running back up the hall and skidding to a stop in front of Brokenfang. "It's Crouchfoot. He just turned up at the swamp. He's asking for Silverstar, and he needs-"

Brokenfang didn't move. "What is this rubbish you are talking about?"

Nightfang hissed, "You know who I'm talking about! Mr. Crouch from the Government! He's ill or something! He's down in the Forbidden Swamp, and he wants to see Silverstar! Just give me the password up to-"

"The leader is busy at the moment, Potter," Brokenfang sneered, his mouth now curling into an unpleasant smirk. "You will have to wait until later."

"Move!" Nightfang cried. "I gotta speak with Silverstar!"

"Didn't you hear me. Potter?"

Nightfang could tell Brokenfang was enjoying himself, deliberately messing with him. "Look," he snarled. "Crouchfoot...h-he's out of his mind! He says he wants to warn-"

The stone wall right behind Brokenfang slid open. Silverstar was now standing there, wearing a mildly curious expression. "Is there a problem?" he asked, looking between the two cats.

Before Brokenfang could say a word, Nightfang sidestepped him and meowed, "Silverstar! Mr. Crouch is down in the swamp! He wants to talk to you!"

To his relief, Silverstar nodded and meowed promptly, "Then lead the way."

He swept off along the corridor behind the young black cat, leaving Brokenfang looking ugly.

**...**

"What did Crouchfoot say, Nightfang?" Silverstar asked as mentor and apprentice walked swiftly down the sandstone staircase.

"He said he wants to warn you," Nightfang panted. "He said he's done something terrible, and he mentioned his son. And Wetnose...and something about Red Helmet getting stronger..."

Silverstar quickened his pace as they leapt out the front doors. "Indeed," he murmured.

Nightfang caught up to him. "He's not acting normally. He doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Sandthorn's there, and then he changes and says he needs to see you right away. I left him with Earthclaw, and he's keeping an eye on him.

"You did?" Silverstar asked sharply, running faster so that Nightfang was running too to keep up. "Do you know if anybody else saw Mr. Crouch?"

"No," Nightfang replied. "Earthclaw and I were talking. Mr. Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task, but we stayed behind to talk, and then we saw Mr. Crouch coming out of the Forbidden Swamp."

They approached the Oasis carriage as Silverstar asked, "Where are they?"

Nightfang twitched an ear, moving in front of Silverstar and leading the way through the trees. He couldn't hear Crouchfoot's voice anymore, but he knew where he was going.

"Earthclaw!" he called.

No one answered.

With a hiss, he meowed, "They were here. They were _definitely _somewhere around here."

Silverstar flicked his tail and muttered _"Lumos!"_, lighting his tail-wand and holding it up high. Its narrow beam traveled from tree to tree, lighting the ground and falling upon four paws. The two cats shared concerned looks before hurrying forward.

Earthclaw was lying on his side on the ground, unconscious. There was no sign of Crouchfoot now. Silverstar crouched over the Mountain tom and gently pawed at his face, his blue eyes shining in the light as he gazed around the surrounding trees.

"Should I go get someone?" Nightfang asked his leader.

"No," the silver tabby tom replied swiftly. "Stay here."

He lifted his tail-wand higher and pointed it over towards Badgerstripe's hut. Nightfang saw something silver dart out of it and flash away through the trees like a spectral bird, but it was much bigger than even a hawk or owl. Silverstar then crouched over Earthclaw again and muttered, _"Ennervate."_

Earthclaw opened his eyes, looking dazed. When he saw Silverstar, he tried to sit up, but he slipped a bit on the leaves, so Silverstar laid a paw on his shoulder and made him lie still. The dark tabby muttered, "He attacked me! The old hare-brain attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone, and he attacked from behind!"

"Lie still," Silverstar meowed.

The sound of loud pawsteps reached them, rustling up the leaves of the swamp. And there was Badgerstripe, coming and panting into sight with Marmaduke the Great Dane beside him.

"Silverstar, sir!" he panted heavily. "Nightfang? What the-?"

"I need you to fetch Coldstar," Silverstar instructed him. "His apprentice has been attacked. When you finish, kindly alert Mad-Eye-"

"No need, I'm here." Mad-Eye, the owner of the wheezy growl, was limping towards them, his wooden paw clunking with every step. He growled furiously, "Damn leg. Would've been here quicker...and what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch–"

"Crouch?" Badgerstripe asked blankly.

Silverstar meowed sharply, "Kindly fetch Coldstar, please!"

Badgerstripe nodded. "Oh yeah. Right away, sir." And he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Marmaduke trotting after him and sniffing around.

"I don't know where Crouchfoot is, but we must find him," Silverstar told Mad-Eye.

"I'm on it," Mad-Eye growled, limping off into the trees.

Neither Silverstar nor Nightfang spoke again until they heard the unique sounds of Badgerstripe and Marmaduke returning. Coldstar was hurrying along behind them, asking about what was going on. His sleek silver fur was standing on end, and he looked pale and agitated.

"What is this?" he cried when he saw Earthclaw on the ground and the two Forest cats beside him. "What's going on?"

"I vos attacked!" Earthclaw groaned, sitting up now. "Mr. Crouch or votever his name..."

Coldstar's jaw dropped. "_Crouch_ attacked you?! The Tri-warrior judge?!"

"Coldstar..." Silverstar began to meow.

But Coldstar faced him and stalked towards him, looking livid as his fur bristled. "Treason!" he snarled. "You and your Government have lured me here under false pretenses! This is not an equal contest, Dumbledore! First you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is too young! Now one of your Government friends tries to put MY guardian out of action! I smell cheating and corruption in this whole affair, and YOU with your talk of closer global links, rebuilding old ties, forgetting old quarrels...here's what I think of _you_!"

With a roar, he slashed his claws across Silverstar's face, reopening the old scar on his nose. As quick as a flash, Badgerstripe sank his teeth into Coldstar's scruff, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree. He released his scruff to hold him in place at the stump with his massive paw, his eyes alive with anger.

"Apologize!" he roared as Coldstar gasped for breath, his paw at his throat. Nightfang couldn't help but feel scared; he had never seen Badgerstripe this angry before.

"Badgerstripe!" Silverstar called, his blue eyes flashing behind the blood. "Drop him!"

Hearing this, Badgerstripe removed the paw pinning Coldstar to the tree and got back onto all four paws. The dark silver tabby tom slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.

"Please escort Nightfang back to the castle, Badgerstripe," Silverstar ordered sharply, not looking bothered by the wound.

Breathing heavily, Badgerstripe sent a glowering look at Coldstar. "Maybe I better stay here just in case, sir."

Silverstar meowed firmly, "No. Take Nightfang back to LionClan Tower. And Nightfang, stay there. Anything you might want to do...it can wait until morning. Is that understood?"

Nightfang warily nodded, staring at him. _How did Silverstar know I was going to send Sheepinton to Padfoot? I wanted to tell him what happened._

"I'll leave Duke with yeh," Badgerstripe muttered, staring darkly at Coldstar, who was still at the foot of the tree, tangled in tree roots. "Stay, Duke. C'mon, Nightfang."

They marched in silence past the Oasis carriage and up toward the castle. As they strode past the sea, Badgerstripe growled, "How dare he? How dare he accuse Silverstar? Like he'd do anythin' like that. Like he wanted you in the tournament in the firs' place. I dunno when I seen him more worried than he's been lately. And you!" he snapped at Nightfang, who was stunned. "Why in the hell were yeh wanderin' off with ruddy Earthclaw? He's from the Mountains! Coulda jinxed yeh right there! Haven't yeh learnt nothin'? Imagine lettin' him lure yeh off on yer own!"

"He's okay!" Nightfang insisted as they climbed the steps into the entrance hall. "He wasn't trying to jinx me. He just wanted to talk about Fawnwillow."

Badgerstripe grumbled as they went up the steps, "I'll be havin' a few words with her. The less you lot have ter do with these outsiders, the happier yeh'll be. Yeh can't trust 'em."

Nightfang looked up at him, annoyed. "You were getting along okay with Fuzzystar."

"Don't yeh start about her!" Badgerstripe barked, looking startling for a moment. "I know what she's up ter now! Tryin' ter get back on me good side, tryin' ter get me ter tell her what's comin' in the third mission. Ha! Yeh can't trust 'em!"

He was in such a bad mood that Nightfang was happy to say good-bye to him in front of the Fat Queen. He scrambled through the picture hole into the den room and hurried straight for the corner where his friends were sitting. He was going to tell them what had happened this night.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**Ron: That's the end of that chapter. And I hate how those Slytherins kept making fun of Hermione...but not all of them are bad.**

**AvatarCat13: That sounds rather mature coming from you, Ron. I don't really like the Slytherins either, but there are a few good ones.**

**Ron: Yeah. But I heard your sister's having a baby shower this Saturday. Who's all coming to there?**

**AvatarCat13: Our family, obviously. Also, our family friend is coming over since he knew us for a long time and he's the godfather. With that said and done, I better say the review thing. (To the readers) Read and review, everyone! Those who do will get to come up with a new blooper for ATLA bloopers, though I finished with Book 1. I don't allow flames, but I welcome advice, questions, and constructive criticism as long as it's not harsh.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


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